#so my mom thought I got abducted and started panic calling me

[herbgerblin]

I’m not sure if this is just funny to me, but when I was at the mbmbam live show in DC, I briefly lost my phone. security located it right away, but everyone in the lost and found gave me a funny look when they handed my phone back. it wasn’t until I sat back down that I remembered that this image was my lockscreen:

ID: Digital drawing for kravitz (specifically attypf), a human man with brown skin, dark facial hair and locs, and a musical build. His is wearing dark grey athletic clothing. Sitting on his shoulder is Cat Taco, a white long haired kitten. End ID.

Which isn’t that embarrassing considering the things I’ve drawn that could have alternatively been my lockscreen. But for a second I felt very dorky in a performance hall full of wizards.

[boldlyvoid]

ain't it fun? | part 4

Summary: reader just needs an NA meeting before they have a meltdown, they end up with the best friend they could ever make.

Warnings: chronic illness, hurt/comfort, drug use**! spencer and reader smoke weed together; talks of relapse and recovery. Also, a case involving child abductions, getting engaged, love confessions

word count: 2.4k

a/n: not sure how long this is going to keep getting but I am enjoying adding to it

P1 P2 P3

Days like today suck.

She can’t get out of bed, she’s so hungry her stomach is swirling and screaming and there’s a pain in her intestines that feels like someone is eating her from the inside out but she can’t move… and she has to pee but her legs hurt and her head is pounding from the light. It’s 6 am according to the alarm clock, Spencer hasn’t left for work yet and she’s already missing him.

She manages to make it to the bathroom, sitting there for too long after because she can’t find the courage to stand back up.

“Why?” She whispers to herself before the tears start.

Covering her face as she cries, she’s still sitting on the toilet with her underwear around her ankles, sobbing as Spencer walks in.

He helps her up without asking, he’s seen too many bad mornings now to ask if she needs help, he just knows she wants to go back to bed, so he fixes her underwear and picks her up.

When he finally lays her down with all her pillows, he lowers the temperature in the room to relax her bones and gets her a ginger ale to help with the nausea from the pain she’s in. It is a regular occurrence for her to wake up and feel like she’s dying, but Spencer was wonderful when dealing with it.

He’s in the kitchen for a while, she’s worried he’s making something for her to eat that she’ll have to lovingly turn away because she can’t do it right now. Her throat is too tight and it hurts to swallow or talk.

She can hear him talking… he’s on the phone with someone.

When he comes back in, he cuddles into her the way he knows she likes. Soothing his hands over her back in a way that helps the pain while also helping her feel like she’s not alone in all of this. He’ll never understand; but he loves her, so a part of him feels it too.

“You called out?” She whispers against his chest.

He nods, his cheek resting on the top of her head as she feels the friction. “I don’t feel good when you don’t feel good.”

“I’m sorry you had to help.”

He’s told her time and time again that he doesn’t mind.

He would kill for her, he’d clean up the mess if she killed someone. He’d even dig the fucking grave if she needed him too… he wasn’t opposed to being there for her no matter what that entailed.

She just hated the fact he had to, he knew her apology came from her hatred of herself and not the fact she felt sorry for him. She loved the help, it made her feel loved until she felt disappointed in herself for needing it.

“Do you want your medicine?”

She smiles finally, “if you mean my secret joint stash— yes, but if you can’t handle being around me like that, then I don’t need it today.”

“I think I’d like to try it,” Spencer whispers. “If you can smoke weed and not relapse then I think I can too?”

“Probably, but if you can’t, I’ll support you however you need me to?” She smiles up at him, he kisses the tip of her nose as she kisses his chin.

Getting high with Spencer is… interesting to say the least. He doesn’t want a full hit, he just wants a taste and so she takes a drag and blows the smoke from her lungs to his. Sharing a part of themselves in a way they never expected before, this is his most vulnerable moment and he was trusting her with it.

The sunshine hits his face in such a perfect way that as they lay side by side, she can watch his pupil devour his iris as he gets high. Their breathing is steady and their fingers are interlocked. They’re content just blinking together, in the sunshine, quiet. In love.

Her body is so calm, and her mind is slow as she takes it all in and he looks so relaxed. He’s not jittery or caffeine-deprived like most mornings; he’s not anxious or stressed or trying to find a way to pretend he’s fine before leaving for work again, only to come home sad.

He’s okay.

She’s okay.

“It's nice,” he whispers, “but it’s not as good as you.”

She smiles, trying not to laugh at how his thoughts are going to be all jumbled for the next few hours. He’s going to be smart yet stupid at the same time and she couldn’t fucking wait to hear all the things he thinks of.

“I know what you mean,” she agrees.

“This is like a tidal wave..." his ramble starts and she is so excited to see where it takes them. "A tsunami that rushes and relieves just as quickly." His eyes are closed as he talks, visualizing his feelings and it makes her giddy.

"You’re like a volcano; there are so many stages before mass destruction, and even then there’s still the ash cloud and the debris and the lava dries like rocks… the destruction is total and the cleanup will be brutal.”

“I’m addicted to you," his eyes are closed as he talks, visualizing his feelings and it makes her giddy. "Drugs are boring and you’re not,” Simplifying his meaning as his eyes open again.

“I love you,” he says with the same certainty as the first time.

“I love you, too, Spencer,” she didn’t think they’d go down this path when she was blowing into his mouth, she expected him to panic or get horny.

“I don’t think I’ve ever really told you how much.”

He shakes his head lightly, “I wouldn’t be opposed to knowing.”

If she thinks it over, she’ll abandon ship before she can tell him, so she just jumps into it.

“I was a little scared to ask you to help me lock my door that first day because I thought you’d think I was just some junky who couldn’t get their shit together. But the second you asked if I had a local group and you helped me; that was the moment I knew I wanted you in my life for forever.”

He smiles, silent so she can keep going. He’ll take his turn when she’s really done.

“And then when we got to talking it was like I knew you already. Like I had your memories in my mind and as you told me things I was like well duh! Yeah, that’s my Spencer! I don’t know how it happened so fast. One minute you’re a stranger and the next you’re the only person I ever want to see for the rest of my entire fucking life,” it’s more passionate than she expected as she rambles on.

“I can’t get married on paper without losing my disability, but I don’t give a fuck about a piece of paper or someone officially giving us that title one day, I’m content just staying in this bed with you for the rest of time and never moving again.”

He looks like he’s about to explode with love as he presses his lips together in the softest smile. He can’t keep quiet any longer, “are you asking me to spend the rest of my life with you but not marry you?”

She laughs at the realization, “I think so?”

They’re trying to kiss but it ends up more like laughing with their mouths touching and teeth occasionally clashing. It’s hysterical because of the marijuana, sure, but they’re high on each other. It’s everything they’ve ever wanted.

To find something better than drugs; that little purpose in life comes back, that drive to see tomorrow because there are good memories to be made with their favourite person. She’s not afraid of the darkness or the unknowing anymore, Spencer’s her guiding light.

He's holding her close to his chest after a while, "are you feeling better?"

"Of course," she smiles, "I've got my weed and my reid."

His laugh is everything as it fills their space again. This was how the rest of her life was going to feel, and it made her excited for tomorrow.

—

She’s feeling a lot better later and they need Spencer to help Penelope back at work, but he doesn’t want to leave her. She’s in sweats with a blanket on her lap in the corner of Penelope’s office, a book in her hand and a coffee on the table beside her as she listens to them bicker back and forth.

“If you hack the NSA we can no longer use all this as evidence if he’s brought in alive, Penelope!” Spencer whisper shouts at her, afraid to raise his voice at her but wanting to get his point across.

“Hotch needs the aerial shots like yesterday, and the NSA won't get them to us in time for this kid!” She yells back.

“Call google…” Y/N suggests, flipping through her book.

“What?” Spencer looks at her like she just said the dumbest thing ever.

“They’re taking photos constantly for their maps program, my mom was saying our new roof is now on the updated map. They might have all the photos saved up, if the FBI asks nicely they might work with you…” she explains, pressing her lips together in a tight smile.

“You’re a genius!” Penelope shouts, dialling the phone and getting JJ to work his media magic for contact at google.

Spencer's smile is one she hasn’t seen before, he’s not only proud of her; he looks a little turned on. She just cracked the case by knowing all the little hacks about the internet as part of her day job. She lived online, and now she was saving lives because of it.

It was a good case to help on, she got to see 3 kids go home to their parents and know a terrible man was going to rot in prison for the rest of his sad and pathetic life. The hard part was seeing them go through months of footage of this guy's yard, seeing the child-sized holes he dug up. The disrupted earth and the knowledge of what happened when there wasn’t picture proof.

—

They go to a meeting after work.

They sit side by side, her leg is crossed and resting over his knee as their arms are linked and fingers interlocked. They really couldn’t be any closer if they tried. They just wanted to listen today, to know they were in a room of people who were trying, people who understood and battled every bad feeling they did.

“Y/N,” the group leader calls her out just before the end of the meeting, “it’s nice to see you back here with Spencer, we heard you found another group but it’s nice to see you here for the support.”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay, but as you can see he is distracting.” She gestured to how they were sitting with a small giggle. “I like coming here if you guys don’t mind me occasionally dropping by?”

“By all means,” another member, carol, spoke up. “Spencer is a great sponsor, it’s nice to see him happy.”

She didn’t know he was a sponsor but he thanks her for the compliment, it turns out almost everyone in his group turned to Spencer for support. It was comforting to everyone there to know the real, chemical and biological reasoning behind their addictions. Spencer provided a sense of calm for all of them, like a younger brother; they all loved him dearly.

They’re still holding hands as they walk home, the sun is still setting and it's barely even 7 pm. All the lights on the street are on, shops are closing and the sidewalks are bare. One store is still open however, across the street, she can see the big storefront window, illuminated with the brightest lights to show off a new collection of rings.

“Do you want one?” He notices her eyes darting to the light like a moth to a flame.

“What?” She zones back in when he stops walking.

“A ring, do you want to get one?” He clarifies with the softest voice.

She nods softly, “you should get one too though, seeing as I asked you and everything.”

He grips her hand tighter and they dart across the street. Giggling like children running to the playground, they’re almost out of breath from laughing as they open the shop door with a ding. Smiles on their faces, joy in their hearts, it makes the shop owner swoon as she sees them.

“Did you just get engaged?” She pries with a knowing smile.

They nod, “we just need some rings,” Y/N adds.

She waves them over, “well I’m going to need our sizes first, here try these on.” She hands them what looks like a thin ruler with holes spaces out.

Y/N attempts to find the right one, fitting the best into the 9 and a half. Spencer fits into the 11 on the first try like he knew already and the woman just laughs at the way Y/N glares at him with love.

“What kind of rings are we thinking? Do you have a preferred cut, style, size, or colour?”

It’s a lot all at once and she’s never really thought about it, “I love my grandma's ring, do you have any vintage styles?”

“I have vintage-style rings as well as some restored rings from the '20s and '30s,” she brings out a jewellery box from under the counter. “These are all appraised and unique.”

When she takes the lid off, Y/N’s eyes widen at the view. There are at least 50 rings in their velvet beds as they wait patiently to be tried on; all different shapes sizes and colours like she said. It feels a little overwhelming at first but then her eyes land on a green one. She takes it out slowly and slides it over her ring finger.

It’s perfect.

Spencer picks out a nice gold band to match, he pays and the lady is so happy to watch them leave hand in hand with their new rings. Dedicated to each other forever and ever, he was her person for the rest of time because he said so and that’s as good as a piece of paper.

She’s a completely different person from who she was when she woke up; twirling down the street with the love of her life, high on loving him as he makes her laugh and holds her hand. He stops in the middle of the street and places his hands on her cheeks, drawing her in closer.

“Loving you is so much fun.”

“Ain’t it fun?” She agrees with a smile before pressing their lips together.

taglist:

@g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @ssavanessa22 @spookyspence @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria@reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor

[stxrrywildflower]

family

pairing - bau team x teen!reader

summary - you never knew something so good could come out of something so bad

warnings - kidnapping, injuries, cursing

word count - ?

requested by @marvelxmendes

by the urgency of hotch’s message, the team knew they were in for a tough case.

another key factor in their suspicions was the fact that garcia was seated, not presenting the case. instead, hotch stood with the remote in his hand, a serious look on his face.

“four bodies have been found in indianapolis. all of the victims have been either teenagers or young adults. another person was just taken, nineteen year old victim. the time between the abductions and killings have been becoming shorter. wheels up in thirty,” hotch announced. 

with that, the team grabbed their bags and took off to the airport. the flight over was spent reviewing the case and bouncing possible theories. emily and rossi were sent to talk to the victim of boy who was just taken. hotch and j.j. were due at the police station while morgan and spencer were going to the latest crime scene.

just hours into their individual assignment, the body of the latest victim was found. the unsub wasn’t slowing down and if anything, was becoming more and more violent.

examining the body was incredible difficult for everyone. the local police had all refused as the boy killed was very active in the local community. hotch and rossi remained at the station while the other agents headed out to the crime scene.

“victim was david mitchell. he was staying with his mom. she worked almost all day,” one of the cops informed.

“well the unsub is obviously going after people who are alone. makes it a lower risk,” morgan concluded.

after a few more minutes of examining the body, the team all headed back to the police station. they didn’t have a ton of information to go off of. all they knew was that they needed to act quickly or else more people would die.

____

stepping into your home, you used your foot the close the door behind you as your arms were filled with groceries. the only sound throughout the house was your shoes scuffing against the floor.

you were only 17 and a senior in high school. your parents ‘worked’ leaving you alone almost all of the time. they had people check in on you and showed up sometimes, making it semi-legal. it had started a year and a half ago. you were shocked at how quickly you adjusted to being alone all the time. honestly, it didn’t feel much different then when they were actually around.

as you turned on the tv to the local news station, you began putting the groceries away. “in regards to the recent murders, the fbi have arrived and are working with the police to catch this criminal. all residents are advised to be on the look out for any suspicious activity and keep their doors locked at all times,” one of the reporters spoke. you peered around the doorway, double checking that your doors were in fact locked.

once you put everything away, you headed upstairs to your room. in an hour, you were due to meet a classmate for a study session. if you were being honest, you didn’t really need a whole study session. you were already accepted to georgetown in washington d.c. for college with a pretty large scholarship. however, you were always willing to help someone study.

it was when you opened your closet and looked in the mirror that you noticed the presence of a figure in the corner of your room. you could barely turn around before the masked figure was rushing towards you. his hand clamped over your mouth. “you scream, i take this knife and stab you. you hear me?” he whispered harshly.

tears began to flow freely down your cheeks. in an effort to save yourself, you bit down on his hand hard. the man was wearing latex gloves allowing for you to tear through them. a metal taste was then in your mouth, letting you know that you had broken the skin.

the man clutched his now bleeding hand, allowing for you to slip out of his grasp. you took off running towards the door. just as you thought you would finally be able to escape, a sharp pain in your shoulder stopped you.

you fell to the ground, screaming as you clutched your shoulder. the man pulled the knife out of your body just as you fell. “fucking bitch,” the man spat. he then raised his foot and kicked you hard in the head, knocking you unconscious.

the local police chief rushed in, clutching a phone in his hand. the teams eyes all darted up. “we think the unsub may have another girl. a local student just called in about y/n y/l/n. they were supposed to study together but y/n never showed,” he informed everyone. “she could have just forgotten,” morgan offered.

“y/n isn’t like that. kid’s had a tough life. but, she’s a straight-a student, set to be valedictorian, and always helps any kids who need help. hell, she’s even helped my son in math,” the chief replied.

“tough life?”

the chief nodded, “her parents work almost all the time. they pop in every once in awhile but y/n is basically on her own. friends and neighbors always check in on her to make sure she’s okay.”

“all right, we’ll all head over to her house. try and find out anything we can. it’s the only lead we have right now,” hotch ordered.

after arriving at your house, the team exited their cars and made their way up to the front door. j.j. stepped forward, knocking on the door. they waited all of two minutes before agreeing to enter. suprisingly, the door was unlocked, adding to the teams growing suspicion of your kidnapping.

spencer, morgan, and emily all headed up the stairs while the other three agents took the first floor. “we have blood!” morgan called as soon as he entered the bedroom. the team regrouped upstairs. blood was on the floor right by the door.

“signs of struggle,” emily spoke as she kneeled down, “it’s fresh.”

“well we know the percentages of kidnappings with minors. take a room and find out more about y/n’s life,” hotch once again gave out orders.

j.j. and emily found themselves in the hallway leading to the living room. “look, there’s no family photos. not even any in the past. all of them are of y/n, her friends, and then accomplishments,” j.j. pointed out.

that was common throughout the house. every room had the basic furniture but but besides that, it didn’t feel like a true home. even your room was incredibly bare. “hey look at this,” emily called, taking one of the frames off the wall.

“an acceptance letter to georgetown. practically a full ride,” emily said as she handed the frame over. “what have you two got?” rossi asked, entering the room. “she’s incredibly smart. already had plans for college. other than that, this house lacks any family value.”

“same for upstairs. everything has been modified for a single person living here,” rossi added.

“we need to find her,” j.j. blurted, her heart already aching for you. obviously, with the fact that you were currently in the hands of a killer but also with your current life. growing up with parents barely in your life was tough, no doubt. by the looks on the faces of the team, they all felt the same way.

when you woke up, your entire body ached. your head was pounding, no doubt from being knocked unconscious with a swift kick to the head. through your blurred vision, you managed to make out your surroundings. the room itself is was a simple square, no windows with concrete floors and walls. you were tied a metal chair which was then bolted to the ground.

naturally, you began to thrash around. you instantly regretted it as your shoulder began to throb once again, the stab wound still bleeding slightly. the ropes that retrained your hands grinder against your skin, creating burns on your skin. your body felt like it was on fire.

“don’t get to comfortable girl,” a new woman called, making you jump slightly, “the fun hasn’t even started.”

the team worked almost nonstop for three days. for a short period of time, they had thought the unsub had already killed you. however, they had received a lock on your hair, letting them know that you were in fact alive.

it was around 10pm when they had a break in the case. garcia had been doing excessive digging and somehow managed to find a warehouse. it was only secluded location in the area which was the best lead they had. after putting on their vests, the team quickly got into their cars and began the drive.

your head hung loosely, no strength was left in you to even pick it up. your eyes were slits, only open enough to see the floor below you. the once grey color was now stained red from blood. some areas were slightly darker, due to the fact that you were practically waterboarded. the stab wound in your shoulder was even worse now. hours ago, you had lost feeling in it entirely.

it turns out you were taken by a man but he was apart of a pair. the man had sat back and watched while the woman tortured your excessively. she only showed up for a few hours while the man stayed with you 24/7.

various cuts, some shallow and some deep, littered your body. a concussion was already inevitable, as you have had one since the first day you had been taken. your left wrist was no doubt broken. the woman had decided to experiment with hammers. your hand was the first thing she hit.

when the sirens had began blaring outside the warehouse, the mans face shifted to panic before completely changing back. “one more for good measure,” he smirked, grabbing a large knife from the rack. suddenly, he plunged the knife into your side. thankfully, he didn’t hit any major organs. blood gushed out of the wound, now soaking your shirt. you couldn’t even cry out, all you could do was hope that the sirens got to you in time.

a cloth was harshly placed over your mouth before being tied around the back of your head, silencing you. the man then pulled your hair, bringing your head up to face the door. “they may get me but they will never get her,” he whispered harshly. your eyes widened at knowing your one kidnapper would still be at large.

the doors suddenly slammed open. two women rushed in, one blonde the other with dark hair, along with two men, one extremely muscular and the other as skinny as a twig. the cold metal tip of a gun was pressed into the side of your head. fear coursed through you.

“put it down,” the muscular man ordered.

the gun was jammed further against your head. pain exploded as your already damaged head was hurt yet again. the muffled discussion between the fbi agents and the man went on for a few more moments.

finally, the man stepped back. you thought that it would be over and you would finally be saved. however, the man pulled the trigger, sending a bullet towards the agents.

the bullet wizzed passed your ear, creating a ringing that no doubt made your ears bleed. another wave of pain exploded from your left ear as well as your head. turns out that the bullet had grazed your ear and head, making more blood flow. another gunshot sounded, the man behind you dropping dead.

the realization that you almost just died finally set in. your eyes widened once again as your breathing became heavier and faster. the one blond woman rushed over and went to untie your legs. a burst of adrenaline came over you as you did everything in your power to push her away. when the cloth around your mouth dropped, you let out a loud sob as tears freely flowed down your cheeks.

“get away, get away!” you screamed as you jerked around.

the blonde woman’s face fell. she stepped back to stand by the other woman. hesitantly, the two male agents stepped forward.

“hey, i’m agent morgan and this is doctor reid. i’m going to take this ropes off of you. is that okay?” morgan asked. you nodded, pressing your lips together. as morgan went to begin to untie the ropes, reid kneeled down beside you.

“help is on the way. but now i need you to breath with me,” reid started, motioning with his hands to get you to follow his breathing pattern. you did as he said, your eyes still continuing to dart around the room. “he can’t hurt you anymore,” reid reassured you.

you jumped again. “p-” was all you could get out before a series of coughs racked your body. your uninjured hand clutched your side. morgan kneeled down beside reid. “what?” he asked.

“partner,” you slurred, eyes finally closing as you fell unconscious.

the second you passed out, morgan and reid immediately went into action. morgan layed your body to lie on the floor as he started applying pressure to your hip. spencer moved your head into his lap, his knee against your shoulder to help with the injury there while his hands were pressed against your head. “you think she has a head injury?” morgan asked.

spencer nodded, “definitely.” meanwhile, emily and j.j. rushed outside to find hotch and rossi. “unsub is dead. y/n is hurt pretty bad but she mentioned a partner,” emily informed the other two agents. “it’s most likely a woman. she freaked out when i went near her but are much better with reid and morgan,” j.j. added, “most likely a dominant and submissive type.”

the ambulance pulled in a minute later. the emt’s rushed in, your body being placed on a stretcher and moved out of the building quickly. the team regrouped outside of the warehouse, all at a stand still on what to do.

“alright, emily and i will head back to the police station. you four go to the hospital. we’ll need to interview y/n after she is treated,” hotch ordered. from there, they all went there separate ways.

at the hospital, you were rushed into a quick surgery to repair both your hand, and stitch up the stab wounds as well as the other cuts on your body. it only took three hours after your initial admission for you to be back to your room and set to wake up any minute.

the four agents stood outside of your room, glancing in through the window to where you were. “poor kid,” morgan spoke. “have you had any contact with her parents?” reid asked from his seat.

j.j. shook her head, “yes and no. the first time i called when she was first taken they didn’t even pick up. just now they did answer but said they wouldn’t come home.”

rossi scoffed at that answer. “can’t that be classified as child neglect?” the senior agent questioned. “she isn’t 18 yet, not a legal adult,” morgan piped in.

“all i know is that y/n can’t be under their care anymore,” rossi concluded.

“what are you thinking?”

rossi shrugged, “not sure yet. we just need to wait for her to wake up. then we can talk.”

twenty minutes later, you began to stir. in an instant, nurses entered your room, changing out your iv’s and helping you wake up properly. they left you alone for a few minutes before the team would come in, no doubt to interview you.

you toyed with the fabric of your hospital blanket as the door opened. in walked morgan and reid since they were the most familiar. “hey y/n, how are you feeling?” reid asked.

“whatever they gave me is helping. thanks for saving me,” you smiled slightly. “it’s what we do. now there’s two of our agents outside. they aren’t going to hurt you. is it alright is they come in two?” morgan asked, his voice soft.

nodding, you adjusted yourself so you were sitting up better. the woman from before and an older man were the next in your room. “hi y/n, i’m emily and this is dave,” she introduced. you instantly felt a lot more comfortable around the people in your room. your eyes flickered down to your casted hand before looking back up.

“what do you want to know?” you asked quietly.

“what can you tell us about the woman who hurt you?” emily asked. you visibly flinched when she mentioned the woman. “i think her name is ashlyn. i overheard them talking. she-” you got choked up slightly. after taking a deep breath, you continued, “she did most of the beating and torture. he just stayed with me and watched.”

rossi sat down in the chair by your bed. “we are going to do everything in our power to find her. i promise,” he spoke. “you promise?” you questioned. “i promise,” rossi reassured you.

you were released from the hospital the next day. the team was still in town as the second unsub had yet to be caught. j.j. was in the room with you while you were getting ready to go. the memories were still slightly blurry but you had apologized profusely about screaming at her. the profiler and brushed it off, saying that it was okay. just after slipping your t-shirt on, you turned to the woman.

“my parents?” you asked.

“i tried calling them-,” j.j. started. as soon as you heard her words, you broke down. “of course they’re not here,” you seethed. j.j. shot you a sympathetic look. “they’re never here. i need them and they leave me in the fucking dust!” you yelled, allowing yourself to curse them out.

you collapsed against the bed as you began sobbing. all your emotions combined with everything that had happened in the last few days came out. j.j. stepped forward hesitantly, moving to sit beside you much to your suprise, she hugged you. you rested your forehead on her shoulder, feeling instant comfort from having someone there for you.

back at your home, reid and morgan stayed with you with the other agents visiting and checking up on you. hotch was the one you had seen the least. after introducing himself, he had to leave pretty quickly due to something about the case.

it was almost two in the morning when you were gently shook awake. with tired eyes, you turned on your lamp to see morgan and reid already dressed and putting on their vests.

“did you find her?” you asked, incredibly hopeful.

morgan nodded, “we have a lead. we all need to be there though. but i do have someone for you to talk to while we are gone.” you shot the agent a questioning look as he handed you a phone. “hello?” you spoke tentatively.

“oh my gosh hi sweetie! my names penelope. derek has been telling me a ton about you,” the woman on the other end greeted.

you instantly smiled at penelope’s voice. as the two of you began talking, morgan and reid slipped out of the room.

when they returned, you were in the kitchen, still talking to penelope and getting a glass of water. “we got her,” reid revealed. you gasped, your hand moving up to your mouth. as a natural reaction, you hugged the agent as a thank you.

you were now finally safe.

the team stayed in town for two more days. they may have lied a bit to do their paperwork there but the real reason was to keep an eye on you. when it was time for time for them to depart, you had almost cried.

after hugging each agent individually, you stepped back onto the foyer of your home, rubbing your fingers over your cast. rossi, however, remained behind. you turned towards the older man, confusion written over your face.

“are you staying?” you asked.

he nodded, “i have a few vacation days. the doctor didn’t recommend leaving you alone.” deep down, you were greatful for his presence.

one night, after a traditional italian dinner, rossi sat you down. “i know this is a sensitive topic for you but we need to talk about it,” he started, “you cannot he under the care of your parents anymore. it’s child neglect and you are not safe there. now, you’re almost 18 and heading to washington d.c. in just a few months. how would you feel about being put under the care of one of us on the team?”

after noticing your slight uneasiness with the question, rossi spoke up again, “i know you’ve only known us for a short period of time but i’m going to be honest. we don’t get cases involving teenagers a lot. we just want you to be safe.”

tears welled up in the corner of your eyes. you couldn’t help it honestly. knowing that there were people out there that actually wanted you to be safe and take care of you made you extremely emotional. “i would love that,” you concluded.

____

the team is as incredibly active in your life from that moment on.

they had suprised you at your graduation, cheering for you as your name was called and after your valedictorian speech. when the official procession was over, you had practically ran over to them, accepting hugs from all.

a week after that, you were put officially under rossi’s care. your birthday wasn’t for another two months making the process easier. with the information presented to the jury, it was no doubt that your parents were deemed unfit to take care of you anymore. you cried when the judge had made it official, hugging rossi over and over as you thanked him.

just two weeks later, you had packed up your things and made the official move to washington d.c. the house remained under your parents name. all you packed was all of your clothes, personal items, and toiletries. there wasn’t a single thing in that house that was yours.

when rossi showed you your room with the promise that you could decorate it anyway you wanted, you hugged him once again. it almost felt like you were starting over and you were extremely thankful for that.

despite him and the team being away often for cases, rossi has always called to check up on you. team dinners became more and more frequent with you meeting the teams extended family also. you eventually became the go to babysitter for henry and jack.

sure there were countless nights you had woken up crying, memories about your kidnapping coming back to you. rossi or whoever was around was always there to comfort you and help you calm down. the past two months were a mess but having the team by your side to celebrate all of your little victories and help you overcome your challenges almost made it all better.

they were your family after all.

[notkageyamasprincess]

grocery shopping | miya atsumu x reader

request: Grocery shopping with Atsumu. You tell him to pick up some stuffs from the dairy counter(like cheese, milk, etc) but when you see him walking towards you, all he is holding is Family pack Ice creams in different flavours.💕😂 "But they were looking at me like 'pick us up', and so I did🥺", he explains. @nkogneatho

notes: hi dear, sorry this took so long, i was going to write headcannons or a drabble at most and then all sorts of funny ideas started popping up in my head. i included your req ofc but it’s not the main focus if that’s okay.

characters: pro vb player!miya atsumu x f!reader

genre/warnings: mostly crack tbh, fluff, very chaotic, y/n thinks she’s getting kidnapped and freaks, they take a ride on a grocery cart, y/n accidentally finds out her boss is a sugar mommy?,tsumu is a sweet boyfie

words: 1.5k

summary: you take atsumu with you on a shopping trip. chaos ensues.

It probably would have been a smarter choice to pick a day when the supermarket was less busy, but the fridge was almost empty and in dire need of replenishing. Today marks Day 3 of you and Atsumu’s new diet, one that he needs since he’s starting an intense conditioning regimen. You decided to participate as well in order to support him, and to get into the habit of eating healthier yourself.

You leave Atsumu’s side to take a basket, but he beats you to it, wheeling out a shopping cart instead. You tilt your head in puzzlement. “Atsumu, we’re not going to buy that much food, we’ll never finish it all.” He takes your wrist in one hand and starts steering the cart with the other. “You’ll see”

You stop at the fresh produce section, tossing an assortment of fruit and veggies in your trolley as Atsumu perks up beside you, getting an idea. “____, let’s get steak today so I can cook for you.” You raise an eyebrow, skeptical of his abilities. And for good reason. “‘Tsumu, you tried to make me breakfast two weeks ago and I don’t think those eggs were even edible.” He puts a hand on his hip and fakes a pout. “Babe, have some faith in me. ‘Samu might be the chef of the family, but trust me on this, I promise I’m not going to poison you.” Despite still being slightly suspicious, you decide not to question him.

You grab a few salad kits for good measure then pull out your phone to tick off your grocery list. “Bread, check, energy bars, check, produce, check, salad mix, check…okay, I think all that’s left is meat and dairy, let’s go get your steak.” You glance up when he didn’t answer. “‘Tsumu?” Your boyfriend has disappeared and so has the grocery cart.

You look for him in the meat aisle. Nothing. You look in the next aisle. Nothing. You’re about to send him a text when you suddenly feel a pair of hands seize you by waist, taking you away from the secure ground beneath your feet. Your life flashes before your eyes. Headlines of “Missing person, last seen at XX Mart” fills your mind. No way is this happening right now. I am NOT getting abducted in broad daylight, in the middle of a crowded grocery store! I have to get help; I can’t go down without a fight.

You yelp while struggling in the hold of your attacker, furiously kicking at empty space. You see an old woman a little farther down the aisle. There’s hope. “Help! Somebod- ” you shriek in panic before a hand comes up to muffle your words. “____! Chill out, it’s me!” You still at the sound of your boyfriend. Too late. The elderly woman approaches you, swinging her cane and nearly whacks Atsumu in the shoulder. “Ma’am, ma’am! This is a misunderstanding, I’m her boyfriend,” he explains, fending her off. She slowly withdraws her cane and stares at you. “Is that true?” You meet her eyes, then mumble an affirmation, ducking your head shamefully. “Young women nowadays… back in my youth, I never would have dared to cause such a scene,” she tsks, glaring at you disapprovingly before she walks away. Oops.

Atsumu sets you down, eyeing you with furrowed brows. “____. Bro, what the fuck?” You can only smile sheepishly. “Sorry that I freaked out on you. I thought I was about to fall victim to human trafficking. But you know how scared I get when my mom sends me articles about girls getting kidnapped,” you point out, attempting to defend yourself. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I told you before, nothing will happen when you’re with me. Did you forget who you were? You’re ____, Miya Atsumu’s girl, and no one gets to mess with you.”

You instantly soften at his words but puff your cheeks out afterwards. “Hmph, well something could have happened just now, and it’d be all your fault for leaving me,” you accuse, pretending to sulk. He gestures at the security cameras. “There are cameras everywhere, not to mention this whole place is crawling with people. Besides, even if something were to happen, I would come for you. No one can touch Miya Atsumu’s girlfriend and get away with it.” He taps the handle of the cart. “Anyways, get in. This is why I insisted on taking this thing.”

“ You’re not serious. We’re too old for this, we can’t be doing things like riding shopping carts,” you reasoned. He rolls his eyes. “Bullshit, me and ‘Samu used to do this a lot and still do sometimes. And don’t lie to me, I know you want to, so get in before people come into aisle.” You bite your lip. He was right, so you don’t protest when he picks you up again and places you inside with your legs over the front. “Hold on tight.”

He puts one foot on the metal bar and pushes off the ground with the other, then hops on, propelling you forward, riding off the momentum. You clutch at the sides of the cart, feeling the air whip at your face, wind running through your hair. The two of you laugh in glee like children.

All was well until a woman’s back comes into view. Your eyes widen. “Baby, stop, we’re going to hit her!” He curses and immediately steps down, reducing the speed until the wheels squeak to a stop, just in time. You turn towards him to scold him. “I knew this was a bad idea; that was so dangerous! We could have hit this lady or even gotten hurt ourselves trying to avoid her!”

“Very fortunate that you didn’t, Miss ____,” says a voice. A very familiar voice. You twist your body back around, looking directly into the stern eyes of your manager. You take a moment, becoming conscious of your current state: hair disheveled, clothes in disarray, legs dangling over the edge of a shopping cart to top it all off. Is there a worse way to encounter your boss outside of work? You hastily straighten up. Well, straighten up the best you could in the situation. You smile nervously. “Ms. Wright! Wow, hi! What a coincidence seeing you here!” You notice a young man standing beside her. “Oh, I didn’t know you had a son. He’s really handsome, you must be proud,” you added. She purses her lips, clearly displeased. “Actually, Miss ____, he’s not my son, he’s my boyfriend. We have a busy agenda today. If there’s nothing else, I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

Your face turns white as you process what just happened. The atmosphere is silent. Atsumu starts to push the cart, waiting until you make it to another aisle before bursting into laughter. “Miya! That was so not funny. I can’t believe that happened. First, she sees me in this state. Then, I mistake her boyfriend for her son? I even called him handsome! Oh my god, it’s really over for me.”

“Calm down, she said to see you at work, it’s fine. Plus, it’s not your fault you didn’t know she was a cougar. That sugar baby must be living the lif- ” You gasp and reach up to cover his mouth before he says anything else. “Shush, Atsumu! What if she’s still around? Yeah, I’m definitely going to see her on Monday…so she can fire me!” you groan. “Just get me out of this stupid cart so we can finish buying what we need, I just want to go home so I can curl up and scream into the blankets.” He smirks. “Oh, you want to scream in bed? No problem, leave that to me.” You slap his arm, and he feigns hurt.

While at the cash register, you realize that you forgot a few items. “Shit, ‘Tsumu, I forgot the butter and yoghurt. Can you quickly go grab those?” He nods. “Wait here, I’ll be fast.” A couple minutes pass and you grow worried, watching the employee scan the last of your groceries.

You finally see your boyfriend return with his arms full. Except, what he’s carrying are massive pints of ice cream. You cross your arms. “Atsumu. What did I just say? This doesn’t look like butter and yoghurt.”

He peers at you with puppy eyes. “Babe, you can’t blame me. They were calling out to me and begging to be picked up! Besides, I got both your favourite flavour and mine. We need this for movie night.”

“What about the diet?”

“It’s not a big deal. Also, you seem like you need this after what happened. And I feel like I might have been responsible for some of it. Just a bit.”

You sigh and pay for the ice cream. He’s got a point. Guess you’ll have to make another trip to the store tomorrow.

a/n: actually this is the first time i’m writing a crack fic, but i have crack hcs in my wips if anyone is curious! i’m not even sure if this is funny or nah lmaoo please let me know

[dancinginthesliverglow]

@febuwhump Percy Jackson Mini-Masterlist

Since 10/28 of my fanfics for febuwhump are in the Percy Jackson fandom, I thought I'd make a list with just those:

Day 1: Mind Control 1.2k T

Tartarus had its own rules. Fire was drinkable. The ground was the body of a dark god. The air was acid, and demigods could be turned into smokey corpses.

Compared to that, the idea of controlling poisons was… easy.

Percy glared at the poisonous lake around him. He focused, and reached with the part of his mind that allowed him to control water.The poisonous tide stopped. The fumes blew away from him and back towards the goddess. The lake of poison rolled toward her in tiny waves and rivulets.

Akhlys took a hesitant step back. “What is this?!” She looked alarmed, scared even. Percy thought it was a good look on her.

“Poison,” Percy snarled at her. “That’s your specialty, right?”

Day 3: Imprisonment  1.9k T

After the Giant War, Percy's life is looking up. His relationship with Annabeth is strong as ever. Poseidon regularly invites him down to Atlantis to spend time with him and Tyson. The greek and roman have resolved most of their issues. Grover is starting his life's calling as Lord of the Wild. Paul helps Percy get his drivers license, and Percy helps his mom paint a room for his soon to be little sister.

Everything is perfect.

That is, until someone abducts Percy.

Day 6: "Please come back."  2.4k G

Percy studies the outline of Chicago. What was once a beautiful lively city is now a deadly, haunted wasteland. Percy shoulders his pack and goes to move onward, when he smells something in the air.

Smoke.

Percy wonders if the undead have managed to set themselves on fire. It wouldn’t be the first time. However, in the back of his mind, a quiet, hopeful voice says that it could be another human.

Percy hasn’t seen another human or demigod in over three weeks.

Another part of his mind whispers that it could be a trap set by a monster. It definitely wouldn’t be the first time they’ve tried that. However, the chance of seeing another demi-god, or even a rare, unturned human is too much to turn up.

Percy follows the smoke.

Day 12: "Who are you?" 2.0k G

He wakes up in a forest. He’s on his back lying on the dirt, looking up at the green canopy above him. He doesn't know how he got here. He stands up and looks around.

Suddenly, there's a sound, startling him.He jumps and spins around. In front of him is a... man. At least, he looks like a man. He’s wearing black jogging shorts, and a green loose shirt.

Something flickers in the back of his mind, but he can’t quite grasp it. The man in front of him, who had definitely not been there a moment ago, seems eerily familiar, but he can’t remember where he’s seen him.

Actually he can’t remember anything, at all.

~

After the Last Olympian and before the Son of Neptune, Percy encounters Hermes a couple times in his amnesiac state.

Day 14: "I didn't mean it." 2.4k T

After the Giant War, Percy decides what he wants to do with the rest of his life, career-wise. Percy and Annabeth go to New Rome's University to study marine biology and architecture. They get a dorm together, and it slowly starts to feel like home to both of them.

One day, Annabeth gets stressed with university and unintentionally snaps at Percy sending him into a panic attack.

Day 18: "I can't see." 3.5k T

After the Giant War, Percy and Annabeth get kidnapped by one of Gaea's Giantesses who wants revenge on Percy for stopping her mother's plans to wake up. To defeat her, Percy goes all out with his powers as son of the earthshaker & natural disasters.

Nico and Will show up with Mrs. O'Leary.

Day 22: Burned 5.3k T

Communications are down; phones, landline and the Internet aren’t working. Percy gets a dream of Hermes captured, and on the brink of fading. Percy, Annabeth and Nico go on a journey to save him.

Very mild angst, along with a touch of powerful!percy, percabeth fluff, solangelo fluff and Mrs. O'Leary with adorable puppies.

Day 23: "Don't Look." 2.6k G

When Luke stabs himself and Kronos at the end of the Last Olympian, he lets out a surge of energy. Percy gets hit by this energy, and it transports him back in space and time all the way to England 1993, the summer before Harry Potter's third year.

~

A Percy Jackson and Harry Potter Crossover

Day 24: Memory Loss 1.5k G

George and Martha have been stolen. Everything seems too… quiet without their constant bantering and hissing in his ears.

He goes to Percy Jackson for help. Annabeth Chase is with him, she gets annoyed at his arrival. Percy tells her to go back to their picnic. He turns to Hermes to ask if they can step into his office and then grabs his arm -

Millennia of bad memories of deceitful mortals trying to poison, hurt and trick him instantly rush back to him and instinctively Hermes fingers twitch, milliseconds away from smiting Percy Jackson.

There was a very, very short list of beings that Hermes was so casual, so familiar, so trusting with. His mother Maia, his brother Apollo, his snakes George and Martha, mortal women he fell for, a few of his sons and the odd hero or mortal that dedicated their lives to him.

Percy Jackson wasn't any of them.

Day 28: "You have to let me go." 1.3k G

AU to the ending of Mark of Athena; what if Frank heard Hazel and flew back down to catch Percy and Annabeth before they fell into Tartarus? Is he strong enough to carry both of them to safety, or will one of them fall into Tartarus alone?

I hope yall enjoy these!! :)

My full febuwhump masterlist can be found here:

[tetsurouskuro]

Stockholm Syndrome

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warnings: smut, cursing, violence, dom!bakugou, spanking, chocking, fingering, bondage, orgasm denial, mafia/villain!au

word count: 5,091

a/n: this idea of villain bakugou kidnapping reader and she falls for him had me all giddy and squirming at work!!! so i started writing it and i really hope you enjoy it!!

Synopsis: You’re being kidnapped by Bakugou and his gang and while in captive you fall in love with him.

-

Day 1. The car was moving fast. It was rushing through traffic and heading to its destination; headquarters. Everything went as planned. They had captured a victim to be held against its will so that the boss of this whole operation could dominate the world. Who was the victim? You.

You were breathing heavily and everything was dark. You tried to pull on your arms and legs but they were tied together. Your arms behind your back, and your legs were wrapped with rope from your ankels to your knees. Something was thrown over your head making it dark so you could not see a thing. You were scared; to say at least. How did you end up in this situation? Oh yeah, you're the daughter of Japan's most intelligent police officer. Getting abducted on a busy street was never something that had crossed your mind.

You could feel the car turn and started drving on a bumby road. The ground was hard against your flawless skin, it hurt when there was a bumb on the road making you fly around the car like some ragdoll. Soon, the car slowed down and the front doors of the car opening and closing. The back of the van where you had been traveling in opened and a pair of strong arms picked you up like you weight nothing and you were tossed over a pair of bulky shoulders. You dared not speak, afraid of what was to come. You could hear footsteps walking and soon you were thrown on the ground, sitting on your knees. The footsteps kept getting closer and soon stopped, right in front of you. The fabric that was over your head was dragged away. You opened your eyes slowly and in front of you seeing a pair of military boots and cargo pants. The smell of smoke was hitting your nose and the person in front of you crouched.

“Welcome, I hope my men didn't treat you too roughly.” Looking up you saw a very handsome man looking at you. Vermillion eyes staring into yours, a smirk on the mans lips. He had spiky blonde hair that suited his face very well. He was very muscular, the tank he was wearing showing of his bulky form.

Still, you didn't dare say a word as the man in front of you took his cigarette in his mouth and blowing out smoke in your face. The smell of the cigarette and a mix of caramel hitting your nose. You started to cough.

“Well, it doesn't really matter as I don't fucking care how they treated you,” he laughs and then stands straight up, throwing the cigarette butt on the ground and stomping on it. “Do you know why you're here?”

“N-No.”

“Oh, so you can speak? You're here because YOU are gonne help me get some of my men out of prison, princess.”

Taking a deep breath you asked “why?” The man crouched down to your eye level, his right hand cupping your cheek and stroking its wat around the back of your head. Grasping his fist around your hair and pulling it back so your looking up at him, submitting to him. His face drawing closer to yours as you gazed into his vermillions.

“I'm the one asking the questions, not you, okay princess? You're gonna listen to me and if you don't obey, well, let's just say it won't be fun for you.” You could only watch him, your eyes showing how terrified you were of this man. “I'm Bakugou Katsuki, leader of the Syndicate gang and I welcome you to your new home, (y/l/n) (y/n).”

-

Day 3.

Gazing up at the ceiling of your “room” was becoming your everyday life. After the man, Bakugou, had introduced himself he told his two henchmen, who you learned the names of; Kirishima and Kaminari, to show you to your room. It was just like a prison. You had your own bathroom (which you were very thankful for) and a bed. Nothing more, nothing less. There were no windows and the door into your room was locked from the outside, indeed making you their prisoner.

You had nothing to do. All you could do was to sleep, eat, visit the bathroom and repeat. Watching the ceiling was what you had been doing these past 4 days being their captive. You had only seen Kirishima and Kaminari, but no Bakugou. Who was he? He was like a shadow to you, appearing then just dissapearing. You've been here for days and nothing had happened. Was the police on the move? Had they found a clue so they could rescue you?

Your thoughts were interrupted at the sound of the door unlocking. You immediately sat up and watched as the door opening and the “shadow” you just had been thinking of walking in.

“You. Come,” was all he said as he stood by the door watching you. Thinking if you should listen or not, you just sat still on the bed and watched him. Afraid of what he might do, but also standing up for yourself. “Oi, did you not hear me?”

“Yes, I heard. I just decided that I won't put up with this shit anymore,” you talk back to him. You see his left eye twitch and soon he is in front of you. Grabbing you the the hair and throwing you on the ground. Hard. You land on your face, hitting you face hard on the hardwood floor covering your room.

“Huh? What did you say?!” You turn and meet his gaze. His eyes screaming with fury. Oh had you made the dragon mad. You could see a vein on his thick neck pop out as he was clenching his fists so hard.

“I said... I won't put up with this shit anymore,” you felt a stinging feeling on your cheek. Had he just hit you? You feel your cheek, it was warmer than usual and when you pulled your hand back to look at it. There was blood on it.

“Fucking whore,” he cursed and grabbed you by the throat. Lifting you up. When you were on your legs you started to cough as he lets you go only to grab your arm, his grip strong on your forearm as he dragged you out. You tried to squirm out of his grip. Getting scared. Why did you have to fight against him with your smart mouth?

As he continued to drag you around the big house he stoon stopped to open a door. Walking into the room, there was only a wooden chair in the middle. Bakugou sat you down and was fast behind you and tied your arms behing the chair and your legs to each chair leg.

“Now you won't escape,” he whispered from behind, his breath on your neck making your bodyhair raise and you shudder. “What does your dad plan to do with my fellow gang member?” He asks while walking around so he's in front of you now.

“I-I don't know. It's not like he tells me everything.”

“No? Well you've been gone for 3 days now and he still hasn't called or texted you about your whereabouts so I think we're gonna have a little chat with him.”

-

The call that Bakugou had with your dad was hard for you. You could hear your dad's voice, consumed by panic and concern. Your dad was good at his job, great even. But he was married to it, not really caring much about your mom, you or your siblings. Yes, he loved you all but he wanted a society that's free from villains and filled with heros, like your childhood friend Midoriya Izuku.

Bakugou wanted your father to send him information about his inmates. As you could not hear your dad while Bakugou was talking to him you could guess what your father was thinking. He was gonna drag this out as far as possible and hope that it will buy him time to get Izuku and his agency to find you; he hoped.

After the phone call, Bakugou was very displeased with it and dragged you back to your room and locking you up again., but not before grabbing you by the neck pulling you close so you could smell him and wgisper in your ear that you're never gonna get away.

Thinking back to the phone call you had watched Bakugou and seen that he wanted to free his inmates; showing you a side of him that you hadn't seen. Was there more hiding underneath his hard demeanor?

-

Day 5.

He was all you could think about, day and night. His words echoing through your head and telling you that you're never gonna get away. The two days after that followed you had listened to his every comand, wanting to get on his good side. Your bruise was starting to heal well and that was something. He intriuged you; there was something about him that made you want to get even closer to him.

You were lying and bed and thinking of him and then decided to try something out. You stood up from the bed and walked to the door, knocking on it.

“Whacha' want?” A voice answered.

“I want to talk to your boss.”

“Oh? Gonna cooperate?”

“Yeah.” You could hear the sound of foot steps fading and opening and closing in the span of a few minutes. Soon the door to your room was unlocking and you took a step away so the door wouldn't hit you in the face.

“Leave us,” Bakugou's rough voice told his red haired henchmen. “Speak.”

“Um, well. I... Um... I-I was gonna ask if it would be possible if I could have some fresh air.”

“No.”

“Why not? I'm not gonna run. You could have someone come with me?” You were looking at the floor the whole time you were speaking. You lifted your head up to look at him and his vermillion eyes were watching you.

“I don't trust you and I definitely don't trust you with them.”

“Well you could come with me?” Bakugou raised one of his eyebrows with that question of yours.

“5 minutes, because I'm in a good mood. If you try something, I'll fuck you up. Got it?”

“Got it,” you smiled at him. “Thank you Bakugou-san”. Bakugou could only watch you as you said his name. The way your eyes lit up when you said it; it was strange.

Everyday this past week had you seen him wearing the same outfit; military boots, cargo pants and a tank. Today, tough, from the waist down it was the same but on his upper body now was a very tight black t-shirt and a leather jacket. This man looked so good. You licked your lips as you scanned him up and down. God, what was happening to you? He was your kidnapper, the guy who had hit you, who was ruthless and heartless.

“Hurry up, I ain't got all fucking day and stop fucking smiling already.”

“Oh, sorry. I'll grab my shoes,” taking your sneakers and sitting on the bed to put them on you could se from the corner of your eyes that he had moved closer to you. When you were done, you looked up at him and smiled. “I'm ready.”

“Let's go then.”

-

Walking out and smelling the fresh air made you smile big. Breathing in heavily and letting it out. The sun was getting down and as you looked around, you wouldn't have guessed that it'd be so beautiful. There was a lake by the house, with a bridge. Everything was surrounded by trees and you could tell that you where not near the city anymore. You loved it, the city but you had always loved the forrest and the outskirts of the city.

“It's beautiful out here.”

“Tch”, Bakugou clicked his tongue and you turned to look at him. “I may have kidnapped you, but I've got money and class.”

“Yes. I can see that,” you tried to muffle the sound of your giggles.

“Are you done?”

“With what?”

“With being outside.”

“You gave me 5 minutes. I can guarantee you, Bakugou-san, that they have not passed yet. Oh, can we please take a walk to the lake? After that I'm done.”

“Tch”, he sounded again and grabbed your hand, his grip firm but not hard as he dragged you towards the lake. He stopped a few feet from the water and there were trees around you.

“Thank you,” was all you said as a few minutes passed by. He was standing close to you, probably so if you tried to run he could be fast to catch you. The smell of his cologne mixed with caramel and cigarettes made you press your thighs together, trying to hide your arousal from him. You bit your lip and just stood beside him and enjoying this moment. As you turned to look at him, he was already looking at you. “What?”

And then your back was pressed hard against a tree, making your heart skip a beat and your lungs forget how to breathe. His right forearm was pressed against your chest and his left hand at the tree. His face mere inches away from yours. “You want me to fuck you?”

“W-What?” His face moved so his lips were beside your left ear.

“You want me to fuck you, (y/n)? Hard against this tree, while my gang members are watching from the house? You want me to touch you, here?” His arm from your chest dissapeared as he cupped your sex, making you gasp. His hand slowly started to caress your sex from the outside of your jeans. “You want me to make you cum? All over my fingers?” You could only moan at his words. His fingers traveled up and squeezed your left breast, hard. His body moved closer to you and his left hand started to palm your other breast. You were breathing heavily, eyes closed.

“You like that? You like my hands on your tits?” Unable to speak, you nodded. Bakugou stopped, his left hand grabbing your face hard. “You answer when I talk to you, understood?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.” Letting your face go for a second but only for his lips to start devouring your mouth. It was very forceful, but you loved it. The feeling of this mans tongue inside your mouth was making you even wetter.

“Fuck,” he groaned as his hands traveled and started to unbutton your jeans. When he was done he pushed them and your thongs down your legs until they were on your mid thigh and his fingers were slowly moving upwards towards your center. “Want me to touch you?”

“Yes,” you sigh and he stops, again. “Yes, sir.” You correct yourself and he continues.

“Good girl,” his rough voice speaks as he starts to move his finger up and down your slit. Making you let out a louder moan. “Such a good girl.”

Then suddenly one of his fingers pushes into you and you let out a moan. Bakugou's free hand pulls your shirt over you head and your bra down, freeing your tits.

“You like that, huh? You like my finger deep inside you cunt?”

“Yes, sir.” He pushes another finger inside you. Your walls hugging them tightly as he thrusts them in and out of you. Your cunt making squelching noises.

“Fucking hell, you're so wet.”

“J-Just for you, sir.” Bakugou's lips crush to yours again, forcing his tongue inside your mouth as his fingers continue giving you pleasure. His lips leave yours, a string of saliva between your mouths as his lips starts to kiss and suck at your neck. Leaving marks.

“You're mine now, you whore. I can take you however I want and I'll make sure everyone knows that you're mine,” he grunts and your arms grip his arms. His biceps hard against your hands. You keep moaning and his fingers starts to quicken their pace. Bakugou adds yet another finger, making it three inside you now.

“Your cunt is fucking swallowing my fingers. You're such a slut (y/n). You wanna cum? All over my fingers?”

“Yes Bakugou,” you moan. His fingers stop and then his left hand is gripping your throat, making it hard for you to breathe.

“Who said you could call me that? You call me sir, whore.”

“Yes, sir.” His hand doesn't leave your throat, his fingers continue to fuck you. The feeling of his hand around your throat excites you. The tension is building up and you know you're close.

“Cum. Cum all over my fingers, (y/n),” and you do. Oh, how you do. Every sound that is erotic, you were making those. Drenching his fingers with your juices, his fingers still deep inside you. The feeling of emptiness comes when he removes them, licking his fingers clean of your juices as he gazes at you. His vermillion eyes never leaving yours.

“Fucking delicious,” he says as he sucks his fingers clean. The sight making you wet again.

When he's done he moves so he's chest to chest with you. His left hand placed on your chin, lifting it so you're looking up at him.

“You're mine now and I take care of what's mine. If you dissobey me, you will be punished.” Noddig your head as he picks up your shirt from the ground and you fixing your bra. “I believe those 5 minutes are over.”

-

Day 8.

It's been three days since you last saw Bakugou Katsuki. Three days and all of these three days you hadn't stopped smiling. Thinking back to where he had made you cum and marked your neck. Purple love bites covering your beautiful neck. You could still taste him on your lips, and you wanted those lips on you again. All over your body.

You had fallen. In a week you had gone from being scared and wanting to go home, to wanting to stay and never be found by anyone other than him.

When you and Bakugou had returned to the house you were both silent. Kirishima had greeted you at the front door. Bakugou didn't say goodbye, he just left and it make your heart ache but you also knew what kind of man he was. Kirishima had walked you to your room, but before he closed the door you had asked if you could by any chance get a clock to your room, so you could know if it was day or night outside. The morning after when Kaminari bought you your breakfast, a little digital clock was also brought in.

Looking at the clock now, it was showing 8PM. You were in bed as you heard the door unlocking. In walked Kaminari and handed you a note, leaving fast after. Opening it you read the handwritten message from a muscular, spiky haired man.

“Take a shower and wait for me on the bed naked. Dissobey and you'll see what happens.”

Biting your lip you think if you should be a bad girl and get punished, but you were also still horny from three nights ago. You had wanted his dick and when he didn't give it to you, you longed for it even more. You also knew that Bakugou was an alpha male. What he wants; he gets, and wheter if you want it or not, he won't give it to you unless he wants to.

Jumping up from the bed you practically ran into the bathroom and started showering. You skipped taking your hair as you had washed it the night before. When you were done you started drying yourself which took about 2 minutes. Wrapping the towel around your torso, you walk back to the room just in time when Bakugou walks in; wearing his signature black military boots, green cargo pants and a black tank. His leather jacket is on and in his left hand he holds a red rope.

“You're not naked or lying on the bed.”

“I just finished showering.”

“Did I ask for a reason?”

“No.”

“Get on the bed. On your back. Arm's over your head.” His comanding tone sending shivers done your spine as you take off the towel in front of him, it landing on a pile around yourself as you walk to the bed. Lying flat on your back. Backugou walks towards the bed, picks up your arms and ties them together and fasten them to the headboard. “Struggle all you want. You're not getting away!”

You could feel your arousal getting worse. You wanted him. His arms around you. His body on you. His fingers and tongue to feel all of you. His cock deep inside you.

You're awaken from your thoughts as you feel Bakugou's fingers pinch your nipple. “Eye's on me all the time.” Nodding your head and biting your lip at him, his eyes still on you. He pulls away to remove his clothing, his leather jacket landing heavily on the floor and his tank following suit. You wait for him to unbuckle his belt and remove the rest of his clothes, but he doesn't. Instead he moves to the bed, his body hovering above yours. He leans forward and bites at the side of your neck; where your hickey was fading away.

“I need to refresh my mark on you,” his dark voice speaks. He sucks. Bites. And licks at your throat, making you whimper. You want to touch him, but you can't as you are literally tied to the bed. His lips start to travel down your body. His mouth goes around your left nipple and suck on the erect bud. He doesn't give it a lot of attention as he starts to go even lower. His tongue leaving a trail of saliva in his way as he leaves a sloppy kiss on your clit, taking you by surprise.

“I wanna fucking hear you scream my name when I pleasure you,” and he pushes his tongue into your folds, making you moan out loud and pull your arm; the rope digging into your skin. The pain giving you pleasure. His tongue continues to thrust in and out of you as his arms spread your legs wider. His palms are placed on the inside of your thighs, holding them down so you won't try to close them.

“B-Bakug-gou,” you moan out and watch him, watching you. His vermillion eyes gazing at you as his tongue pleasures you. His eyes never leaving you as he starts to lick you up and down, side to side. His face burried between your legs. His lips soon stop and land on your clit and start to suck, making you buck your hips at the tension, the sensation making you see stars. You want to cum, so badly.

His lips sucks on your clit as one finger pushes into you, your walls tightening around his finger making you moan louder.

“You wanna cum, (y/n)?”

“Y-Yes Bakugou.”

“Are you close?” He adds another finger. The tension around your cunt and belly getting worse, meaning you're close.

“Yes!” And they're gone. His lips, tongue and fingers. You whimper, wanting them back on you.

“You'll cum when I say you can.” He removes himself from you and unbuckle his belt. His fingers then working slowly on his pants to remove them. Looking him up and down you see that his boots are gone, he must've removed them while he was down and working you up.

“You want my cock?”

“Yes.” Your answer comes quickly and he removes his pants and breifs in one go, his cock slapping against his lower abdomen. You can see some pre cum on the tip. Your eyes never leaving his glistening cock as he comes closer to you; your face to be precise.

“Open up for me.” Opening your mouth you don't have time to react as he pushes his thick cock inside your mouth, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat making you gag. “Mhm, fuck yes.”

He grabs a hold of your hair, it stings at the roots but it doesn't matter 'cause he's fucking your mouth and you could cum just by him doing that. The only sound in your room being him grunting and you gagging. You can taste him, the sweet salty pre cum on your taste buds, making you want more but he removes himself from you yet again and then climbes on the bed only to grab your hips and flip you over; landing on your front. Face burried in your pillow. He pulls your hips up, your weight resting on your forearms as his fingers rubs your slit. You can hear how wet you are when he's touching you.

“Spread your legs.” You spread them as far as you can, your knees sinking into the mattress. Soon you can feel him, the head of his cock at your entrence, but he's not giving it to you, not yet. “What do you want, slut?” he asks and slaps your buttcheeks. The friction giving you pleasure as you moan at the pain, welcoming it.

“You. Your cock. Inside me, Bakugou.” And he thrusts into you. Taking you by surprise at both the action and the size of his massive cock inside you. A slap on your left cheek has you moaning louder. The feeling of his cock inside is mesmerizing. It's making you sink even deeper. Feel something deeper for this man.

His hips start moving in a hard pace. His thighs slapping against yours. One hand grabs a hold of your hair and he pulls on it, hard, making you having a hard time breathing in this position, but still. The way his cock hits you at the right places makes you groan and moan. Calling out his name here and now.

“Louder. I want to fucking hear you,” another slap to your ass cheek as he continues to ram into you. The tension between your legs growing at a steady pace. His free hand comes forward and he starts to do figure eight motions on your clit.

“Baku-goooou,” you moan and close your eyes. Tears forming in your eyes and you feel yourself growing tighter and tighter around his cock. You were so close.

“Not yet, slut. You're not cuming just yet,” he draws out of you, leaving you a whimpering mess. He turns you over agan so you're on your back. He straddles your right thigh, it being between his legs as your other one is pressed aganst his chest, your foot beside his head. He enters you again, his cock easily sliding into your cunt. “Fuck. You're even tighter in this position.”

“Mhm, Bakugou. Fuck me,” you moan and as you look at him. The lust in his vermillion eyes, the smirk planted on his lips he starts to fuck you. Hard. In this new position, it's making his cock go even deeper than before. Feeling as he has entered a new territory. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“You're close again, aren't ya?” He grunts. His body now towering over you. One of his hands grabs you by the throat, his grip tightening, as his other one starts to give your clit some attention again. “You wanna cum (y/n)? You wanna cum all over my cock?”

“God, yes Bakugou,” you scream out at him. His body and hair is damp from sweat. He grunts and throws out “fuck” every now and then as he continues to pump his cock inside your wetness. The grip on your throat is making it harder to breathe. You're panting now, wanting so badly to cum.

He lets go of your leg, only to place it beside him on the bed. His body now over yours, his hand still on your throat as he's leaning his weight on the other one that's beside your head.

“Fucking cum all over my cock, (y/n). Cum, you slut.” And. You. Do.

“B-BAKUU-GOOU!” You scream out as you milk his cock with your orgasm. Your juices making his cock glide in and out of you so easily.

“F-Fffuuuuuuuuck,” he screams as he reaches his own peak, cuming inside of your cunt. His warm seed filling you up all from inside. His grip on your throat getting tighter as he continues to come down from his orgasm. His grunts and moans like music to your ears. The pleasure of seeing him cumis utterly outstanding. His eyes shut close tightly and his face showing only one thing; pleasure.

As soon as he's gotten his breathing under control he lets go of your throat. Both of his hands now placed beside your head, his body hovering above yours. His eyes are still closed and you're still watching him. You want to touch his face and as you try to move you remember that you're tied to the bed. You're too embarrassed to ask him to tie you up, and you're not even sure he'd even do that.

Bakugou opens his eyes and looks at you. You can't read him, this man was a hard man to read. You gulp as you watch him untie your hands, his cock still inside you. When you're finally free, you rub your hands on your wrist and avoind looking into his eyes.

“Oi,” slowly lifting your face to look at him. He captures your mouth with his. His tongue invading yours. “You're fucking mine. And nobody, nobody, lays a fucking finger on you. Only me. You got that?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good. Now, be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth with my tongue,” you open up your mouth to him and your tongues wrestle with each other. He then starts thrusting inside you again. “Gonna fuck you all night (y/n). Mark you with my cum,” and he does. Today's worries, you leave them for tomorrow as you're embraced by Bakugou.

[r00m203]

after birth

i’ve always been mad that we never got to see what happened when mulder went in to bring scully to the hospital after she gave birth to wiliam, so this is that scene. 

big big thanks to my favorite ladies @absolutetosh @scintillatingbluefishies and @stellaxxgibson for the beta and love. 

also i’m on ao3 now. https://archiveofourown.org/users/R00M203

_____________

He rushes in. The sounds of screeching tires and car horns are thick and muffled in his pounding ears. 

“Scully! Scully!! Where is she?!”

He isn’t  sure if he is  actually speaking; his senses overwhelmed by swirling dust, helicopter roar, moving cars, and complete, utter panic. 

Peering through moving windows at lifeless eyes, he screams her name for what feels like hours.

Through the polluted air he sees a familiar face. The surrounding erratic movement makes him dizzy, but he walks towards the face, struggling to move quickly, feeling as if his body is submerged in molasses. 

Monica. 

“Mulder!” She calls, finally spotting him through the smokey lights. 

He tries to analyze her expression, but can’t discern if her apparent  lack of panic is real or just what he is trying so desperately to see. 

“How is she?” he yells, finally picking up speed towards her. The ground beneath his feet feels like beach sand, seemingly requiring every muscle to move forward. 

“She’s inside!”  

As if breaking through a barrier, he pushes past her through the splintered wooden doorway. Monica catches his arm. 

“She needs to get to the hospital.” 

He nods, pausing for the first time in what seems like days to prepare himself for what he’s about to see. He breathes in, and enters. 

Scully is laying on a small metal framed bed, in a grey t-shirt he’s never seen. She’s underneath what he guesses used to be white sheets, but are now stained red. Red, he takes note, that is still pooling between her legs. She glows in the candle light, wet hair stuck to her skin, face glistening in a mixture of tears and sweat. Her eyes flutter inconsistently. She cradles a bundle on her chest. 

“Scully,” he exhales, a breath that seemingly propels his stuck feet toward her. 

Her drooping eyes snap as he reaches her. She turns, using the last of her strength to shield the bundle beneath her.

“MONICA,” she screams. 

He feels the pulsing in his chest quicken. He’s never heard such piercing panic in her voice. Not in all of the kidnappings, attacks, or abductions had he heard such penetrating fear erupt from her. She always seemed eerily calm when her life was threatened. His stomach churns at the realization that this time it wasn’t her life she was fighting for. 

“Scully, it’s me. I’m here. Are you okay? Is the baby okay?” 

“Get away from me!” She spits, her head still turned away from him, her spine curving protectively over the now crying bundle. “Don’t touch my baby.” 

Her breath begins to quicken. She groans quietly under her breath. 

She needs to get to the hospital. 

Just as he remembers Monica’s words, he hears her voice. 

“Dana, it’s okay, it’s just Mulder,” she soothes, rushing to the other side of the bed. 

“How do you know?! They can look like ANYONE,” she gasps. “He’s normal …. he’s not what you thought …. please …. leave my baby alone.” She pants into the bundle, her voice getting weaker the longer she talks. She’s struggling for air. 

“It’s a boy,” Mulder whispers, his heart suddenly in his throat. At the sight of blood still pooling between her legs, he suddenly snaps into gear. 

“Scully, it’s me! Look!” He gestures to Monica who helps tilt her face towards him. He turns around, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Oh my god, Mulder,” she exhales, a breath that quickly transforms into an exhausted sob. “How did you find us?” 

“She’s losing too much blood,” Monica warns. “We need to get her to the helicopter now.” 

“No– NO,” Scully suddenly spouts in another adrenaline filled burst. “You can’t move me until the umbilical cord is cut, and he needs at least another 3 minutes.” 

“Scully,” Mulder starts, kneeling down to her, “You’re losing a lot of blood. We need to get you to a hos-” 

“I know I’m losing blood,” she shakes her head back and forth, “I’ve been losing blood. But he isn’t … My vitals are low so it’s taking longer … for him to get the nutrients he needs.” She pants, out of breath, “Please … a few more minutes.” 

She adjusts the baby on her chest, the shirt stretched down and over him so his skin is against hers. Mulder sees the top of his head– wet and red. Normal. 

The baby turns his little face to see what all the commotion is about. As Mulder watches the small blue eyes darting about the room and the tiny hands clutching at Scully’s collar bone, he feels a tightness spread across his chest. Tears flood his eyes. He reaches out to touch him gently, then her. Scully closes her eyes and releases the weight of her head against his hand. 

“Scully, you’re freezing,” he whispers. 

“I’m going into shock,” she says plainly. “I’m hemorrhaging … not enough blood is getting to my organs … so my body is … shutting down.” She shakes her head and gulps in an attempt to control her breath. “It could be because my… uterus didn’t contract enough … after he was born … or there could be a tear …or–”  

“Scully, we need to go,” Monica starts. 

“One more minute,” she commands in a voice so powerful they both know there is no way to refuse. 

Feeling unbearably helpless, Mulder tucks a strand of drenched hair behind her ear. She smiles slightly. 

“Monica, I need you … to massage my lower stomach … it stimulates contractions which …   slows the shock,” she chokes out, her voice getting smaller with each word. 

Monica jumps to her feet and presses into her abdomen. Scully cries out involuntarily and Monica freezes. 

“No … that’s right … keep going,” she grimaces and lets out a sharp exhale. Mulder squeezes her clammy hand. 

“Listen to me, Mulder,” she starts, looking into his flooding eyes intently. “In thirty seconds … you need to cut …the umbilical cord. Then…you both are going to… fuck,” she closes her eyes in frustration and inhales as slowly as she can, “pull out my placenta.” She exhales, exhausted, clearly using all the strength in her body to continue talking. 

He nods as she continues. “I don’t know …if I can stay awake…. to talk you through it.” Tears flood her eyes and he moves a hand to wipe the escaped ones away, ignoring the wetness scattering across his own hot cheeks.

“Once the umbilical cord…. is cut…. one of you needs to press on my stomach…. like,” she gestures to Monica’s current motion, “and the other needs to grab the cord…. and pull gently.” 

He nods eagerly, fear evidently plastered across his face. She winces but continues to talk, her voice noticeably straining. 

“Now….when it’s out…. ah…. there’s going to be even more blood,” she gulps and takes as deep a breath as she can muster, “Mulder–” 

He cradles her head in his hands and listens more intently than he ever has in his entire life. 

“Everything you need for him…. is in my apartment…”

“Scully, what are you–”

“Don’t buy storebrand formula…. it's not good for him… my mom will tell you what kind to buy…. since I won’t be able to–”

“Scully, stop.”

“And hold him against your skin…. when you feed him….it’s bonding… for both of you.” 

“Scully you don’t–” 

“And sing to him …. when you put him to sleep.” Her chest rises and falls quickly. She lays her head back. “I know you hate your voice but–”

“Scully, listen to me,” he takes her face in his hands. “You don’t need to tell me these things because you’re going to do them. We’re going to get both of you out of here. Safely. Okay?” 

She looks at him dreamily, her eyes beginning to gloss over. She’s not reacting to the pain anymore. 

“Scully— Scully, I can’t do this without you. You have to stay with me. Please–” his voice catches as his throat constricts. He gulps down a rising sob.

“Kiss me,” she whispers. 

Holding the back of her damp neck, he presses his lips to hers with more fear and love and pain than he thought was possible. They inhale together. He pulls back and looks into her closing eyes.

“I love you,” she breathes into his parted lips. 

He kisses her again, but this time she doesn’t inhale with him. He feels her suddenly limp in his hands, beneath his lips. He pulls away. 

“Scully? Scully!” He yells, lifting her face up, trying to shake her awake. 

“I’m cutting it now,” he announces to Monica, who’s already handing him scissors. 

“Press here,” Monica orders, moving to the red space between her legs as he replaces her hands with his. 

He does, and as she pulls, he feels movement beneath his hands, beneath her cold skin. Monica gasps as she successfully removes the placenta and the increased amount of blood Scully warned of spills from her too.  

“I’ll carry her. Tell the pilot we’re coming,” Mulder shouts, already drenched in red as he hooks his arms under her legs. 

“I’ll grab the baby,” Monica starts but Mulder quickly interrupts. 

“No, leave him,” he pants, “I have them both.” 

Not about to waste any time arguing, Monica runs out of the little wooden house into the dust storm that is now outside. 

Mulder scoops up Scully, making sure the baby is still perfectly nestled in her arms. The baby begins to squirm, letting out a quiet cry. 

“It’s okay little one, you’re safe. Everything’s gonna be okay.” He repeats the last thought again, more to himself than to his son. 

Her head bobs as he runs, as quickly as he can, to the helicopter. He tries to shield their faces from the swirling dust. Unconscious, she still cradles the baby perfectly against her chest. 

It takes Mulder, Monica, and the Pilot to get her limp body into the helicopter safely. Mulder follows. He cradles her and their child in his lap, forgetting the blood, forgetting the super soldiers, forgetting everything. He rocks back and forth, whispering the closest thing he’s ever said to a prayer against her cold, soft hair curling against his lips.  

_____________

thank you for reading and indulging in the ~drama~ 

tagging the women who inspire me as usual @scintillatingbluefishies @stellaxxgibson @absolutetosh @storybycorey @today-in-fic @baronessblixen @sarie-fairy @gaycrouton

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Verboten 14 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary: AU. When Danny was five years old, he went missing for 2 weeks. In the years that follow, his family tried to make sense of what happened, only for the truth to be discovered years later.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, language. Be prepared for some very weird things

Chapter warning: being attacked at home

Parings: Danny/Sam

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr. This fic is very heavily inspired by folklore surrounding mysterious wilderness disappearances

Chapter 14

“Well, at least we know your parents could hire him to clean their ceilings if he stays stuck up there.”

“You’re not helping, Tucker,” Danny snapped at him from his spot on the ceiling.

More amused than surprised anymore, he just let Sam continue to try to help Danny change back to his human form while he worked on his own project. When Sam messaged him earlier that there was an issue, he hadn’t expected to walk into Sam’s room and find Danny, in all his ghostly glory, sitting cross-legged on the ceiling above Sam’s bed and having a panic attack. After taking in the absurdity of the situation, he tried for several minutes to help Sam somehow get him down. When all rescue attempts failed, mostly because Danny couldn’t seem to hold on to anything they threw at him, Sam moved to a different tactic. She hoped getting him to relax would somehow help.

Since that wasn’t his forte, Tucker decided his way of helping would be to finish reviewing the information he got from Plasmius while making comments about his friend’s predicament. Although he knew the digs annoyed Danny and Sam, he needed to do it for his own sanity.

Up until this point, Tucker really hadn’t registered the paranormal as being truly real. Sure, they did get abducted by a crazed ghost and then attacked by an even crazier ghost, but the more time passed without a ghostly incident, he had almost rationalized it as some stress induced hallucination. Almost being the key word. He knew his best friend had been fundamentally changed by the event, but other than the freak out at school and his now permanently chilly skin, Danny hadn’t done anything ghostly until now. Speaking of which…

“How exactly did you end up like this?” he questioned moments before Danny finally fell from the ceiling and landed face first on Sam’s bed. “You okay, dude?”

“More okay then I was when I was stuck on the ceiling,” he sighed as moved himself to the edge of the bed. His unnatural green eyes scanned the room as if searching for something. “I’m like this because of Plasmius.”

“Wait, wait? That’s a pretty big thing to neglect to mention.”

“I’m sorry I got distracted by discovering I was walking around in my ghost form or whatever you want to call it.”

“Don’t antagonize him, Tucker. That seems to make things worse,” Sam scolded as she pointed at Danny, who started to float again. “See? But that is pretty important.”

Danny huffed as he experimentally shifted, making it look like he was just lying on his stomach… in mid-air. Seemingly alright with the position, probably because he was only about a foot above the bed, he continued. “Look, I was planning on immediately telling you guys as soon as Tucker arrived, but I panicked when I realized I couldn’t change back. But since that doesn’t seem to want to change any time soon, I guess I just explain what happened.”

Once Danny was done, Tucker let out a whistle. “That’s some story. Glad he let you go, but it’s really creepy that he can just pluck you into that other world when he wants.”

“Why was he here in the first place?” Sam asked as she worked up enough courage to sit near where Danny was still floating. “That’s what’s bugging me about it. Was he just really here for information?”

“That’s what I don’t get either. Whoa! I’d like it if my body would make up… its mind?” As Danny fell onto the bed once again, a blinding light suddenly washed over him. Once it faded, he was back in his human form. “Well, at least that fixes that problem for now.”

Deciding not to comment on his friend’s obvious relief, Tucker somewhat changed the direction of the conversation. “At least Plasmius confirmed he’s interested in Vlad Master’s companies for something nefarious. Most of what I’ve gotten so far on that data are files on different employees.”

Danny’s eyes lit up at the statement. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Vlad’s in town.”

“That’s convenient,” Sam dryly stated after she shared a look with Tucker. “Why’s he here?”

“Apparently, when my parents asked him for help getting some information, he decided he needed to be directly involved. He was visiting when I got up.” He glanced down and wrung his hands before adding, “But he seemed really off today.”

“Off how?”

“He gave me literal chills. I mean, if I think about it, that’s happened when ghosts were around, but not people. He also seemed off… like he was a different person.”

Unnerved, Tucker placed his PDA on Sam’s desk. “I hate to bring this up, but didn’t you say that thing that attacked you was able to change how it looked?”

Danny’s eyes widened briefly before he shook his head. “I… I don’t think that’s it. It was close, but there was still something off about how it looked. It also didn’t feel the same… the chill was different. Vlad felt… Vlad felt like Plasmius but not as strong? I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You mentioned that chill before when you freaked out because of Maura… do you think you can sense other ghosts now?” Tucker felt himself grin despite the situation. “I mean, cuz if you can, that’s really useful. I’d like to be able to stay on the complete other side of the city from where that creepy thing is.”

“Maybe? I certainly didn’t notice anything like it when we were trapped or escaping from Plasmius… but he did say something about how that’s possible.” A thoughtful expression briefly crossed his face, until he gave a wry grin. “Fat load of good it does if it only goes off when something is like ten feet away.”

“Darn. Well, still let me know if you notice anything else weird. I’d like a head start over anything that might harm these good looks.”

xxx

After their initial discussion of what happened, the rest of the time was spent seeing if Danny could get any sort of control over his ghost form. It took a while, but he did manage to find the preverbal trigger for the change. Via a couple hours under Sam’s Spartan-equse training, he was finally able to change to and from on command. While he hoped he’d have a chance to work on more of his abilities, it was definitely a success.’

Around dinner, he and Tucker left Sam’s and headed to their own respective houses. While his parents were relieved to see him before sundown, he couldn’t return the feeling. Vlad was still in the house. According to his parents, the businessman would be staying with them in the guest room for a while.

“A while? How long’s a ‘while’?” he questioned as he looked for something to drink in the fridge.

“Well, that’s up to Vlad,” his mother replied as she added a few shakes of something to what smelled like stew. Vlad and his father were still in the lab. “While he’s not entirely certain how long he will be able to remain away from his businesses, he’s hoping to be able to stay for a couple weeks.”

Unhappy with that answer, Danny grabbed his drink and disappeared into his bedroom. If he was honest, he wanted to practice more with his abilities. It would be a shame not to with how much progress he made earlier, but he wasn’t exactly certain what tools his dad and Vlad might be using. Some of them where supposedly able to detect differences in energy levels. Without knowing the specifics of his abilities, he really didn’t want to clue them in.

Actually, was he ever going to tell his parents? That was a good question. Right now, when he didn’t have much control or understanding over anything, it didn’t seem like a good idea. Perhaps down the road? Maybe. Actually, maybe they might have so information regarding what happened to him.

A little later, his parents called him down for dinner. For him, it was a relatively normal affair, save for the chills Vlad kept giving him. Seriously, what was up with that? Vlad had been a fixture in his life for years, and there was never an issue before. Maybe Plasmius somehow influenced him or something? He guessed it was possible. There were legends about ghosts doing stuff like that, but he had no idea how to even begin figuring that out.

After dinner, he once again retreated to his room. Frustrated, he decided a few hours of Doomed would be a good distraction from everything.

…

Right around three am, something woke Danny. Rubbing his eyes, he realized he fell asleep gaming. Stretching, he turned off the game before checking one of his drawers for clean pjs. Deciding it wasn’t worth it, he headed to his bed only to stop when his breath misted in front of him.

Now wide awake, he stopped and listened. There were the normal sounds of the furnace and his dad’s snores. Wait, the furnace? Then why could he see his breath a moment ago? Spooked, he opened his door as quietly as possible and stuck his head out into the hallway.

Nothing seemed out of place. No one was in the hall. There was no light from his parents’ room or the spare bedroom Vlad was using. Deciding something still didn’t seem right, he crept down the hall and peaked down the stairs.

Eyes, dark eyes with a faint red glow, peaked out at him from the darkness of the living room. Knowing whatever it was saw him, he panicked and ran towards his parents’ room. “Mom! Dad! There’s something in the house!” he yelled as he frantically beat on the locked door. Of course it was one of those nights.

“Oh my god, what is that thing?” Vlad’s voice and the growl that followed forced his attention to the staircase. The sickly gray color of its skin made it somehow stand out in the shadows. The creature, the same one Danny encountered in the alleyway, stood in all its horrible glory at the top of the stairs. Its face was twisted in a grotesque snarl, and it swayed slightly. With an uneasy jolt, Danny realized the thing seemed to be debating who to go after first.

At the sound of the lock on his parents’ door turning, the thing lunged forward. Danny barely had time to register his mother pulling him into the room while his father roared, “Eat this!”

The familiar whine of one of his parents’ blasters powering up was followed by a blinding green blast and then another. As his parents decided to chase the thing, he curled up behind the door. The sounds of the blasts and something else, something unnatural, crashing into furniture could be heard from the downstairs.

How did that thing get in the house? Better yet, how did it find him? It was his fault. He needed to help, but what could he do? He had no ability to fight against it. Heck, he still didn’t know what it was other than dangerous and evil.

When the sounds in the downstairs stopped, he held his breath and waited. A sigh of relief escaped him when his mother called for him and Vlad. Not caring he was a teenager and by default hated hugs from family members, raced to his mother’s side and embraced her. Understanding he was frightened, she rubbed his back and reassured him she was fine.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the light snapped on to reveal blast marks, destroyed furniture, and Vlad appraising the scene from the bottom step, “but what exactly was that thing? Should I contact the police?”

Embarrassed someone saw him, Danny quickly let go and retreated a few steps. His mother smiled at him before replying, “It’s already been taken care of.” She pointed to what Danny recognized as the button of one of the alarm systems; it was flashing. “Jack’s checking the perimeter to make sure that thing is gone. In the meantime, I’m going to make us hot chocolate.”

“But what if that thing comes back? Surely Jack wouldn’t just leave you alone.”

She flashed him a grin as she held up a miniature blaster. “Thank you for being concerned, but I’m actually the better shot between the two of us.”

After glancing at Vlad, who seemed both dumbfounded and proud, Danny hurried into the kitchen after his mother. He really didn’t want to leave her side if that thing came back.

“Danny,” his mother stated after they were seated at the kitchen table with hot chocolate in hand, “be honest with me, was that the same thing you saw in the alleyway?”

He took a sip of his drink before answering her. “I… I think so. I mean, I’m not exactly sure if it was the same thing or not, but it looked similar.”

“You’re telling me that’s the thing you’re researching?” Vlad sounded surprised, but Danny noticed how tightly he gripped his mug. Why did he seem angry? “That thing was an abomination.”

His mother nodded. “While there are some stories regarding things like that in folklore, most of the recent ones seem to be more fiction than fact, so Jack and I tended to disregard them.” She sent him an apologetic smile, “However, with Danny’s report, we decided to look into it and didn’t like what we found. That’s why we reached out because we needed to get the resources to verify the data.”

“What do you mean you didn’t like what you found?” His whole body felt icy again, but this time, it seemed to be from fear and not some paranormal creature.

“I want to verify something with the officers,” she glanced at the clock on the wall before muttering, “when they finally get here first. However, if Jack didn’t manage to get it, I’m not sure if it’ll come back or not. We definitely wounded it,” she pointed to a spot in the living room where something wet, dark, and faintly glowing could be seen, “but I don’t know if that was enough to ward it off or if it’s vengeful enough to return.”

“But why was it here?”

“If I may?” Vlad glanced at his mother, who nodded. “If it was in fact the same creature Daniel saw, it may have come for him, or, it simply could have been drawn to the house. Forgive me, but you do have a lot of ectoplasm and other potential energy sources on hand.”

“Hmm… we have been meaning to update our storage devices. That can easily be done, but if Danny is a target, that would be much harder to fix.” His mother reached out and gently put her hand on his. “Sweetie, don’t take this the wrong way, but your father and I are worried you might have been changed because of your disappearances.”

That was putting it lightly, he ruefully thought. However, instead of agreeing, he asked her to explain what she meant.

“Well, you know we theorized you temporarily slipped into a different dimension when you were younger? It’s possible that somehow altered you. Pass reports of those ‘spirited away’ often report the person was somehow changed. Since before you seemed fine, save for the times we caught you staring as if you saw something we couldn’t, we figured you may have developed a sensitivity to the paranormal.”

He nodded. That made sense. Although, he was embarrassed his parents picked up on how he sometimes saw those shadows. Apparently he didn’t do nearly as good of a job as he thought at keeping that a secret.

His mother bit her lip before continuing. “But, this past time… something changed. I know you told the police you were abducted by a person, but the complete disappearance and then reappearance… and that none of you who disappeared could be tracked… and the injuries… and how that poor boy was found… it never made sense it was a human. And when you came back, the changes in your vitals, we knew there was something more to it. You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not ready,” she added when she noticed his panicked expression, “but whatever changed might have made you something like beacon to creatures of other worlds.”

His mouth felt dry. His parents actually suspected there was something off about him, and they just accepted it? Should he tell them how much he really changed? No, Vlad was in the house. He didn’t need to know anything about it. However, he could start probing for some of the answers he wanted. “If… if I have changed, how…?”

“We’re not exactly sure what will happen in the long run,” she replied as she picked up on his train of questioning. “Old accounts vary, and it’s difficult distinguishing fact and legend. Anyways, Danny I just want to verify the thing that attacked us tonight and whoever abducted you on the camping trip are not the same thing.”

He violently shook his head. “No, they’re completely different…”He debated with himself for a moment. Should he tell her about Plasmius appearing? Or the thing Clockwork discovered? Or the horde that attacked Sam, Tucker, and their classmates on the way back? “At least, whoever took me, Sam, and Tucker was completely different. I don’t know what grabbed the others.” That was true enough.

Vlad remained unusually quiet during the exchange, but unlike other times where he seemed disinterested or involved, this time it seemed like he was mulling over something. Also, Danny hadn’t missed the way his eyes narrowed when he added on the information about the camping abduction.

A knock at the door spooked everyone. They turned to see his dad opening the door followed by a couple police officers. “I found the police!” he said with a grin. “They thought it was another false alarm.”

“False alarm? False alarm?” His mother stood and marched over to the officers who were taking stock of the damage with wide eyes. “My family gets attacked, and you have the nerve to think it was a false alarm? If my husband and I didn’t have the means to defend ourselves, we would have been killed!”

Danny just sighed and continued sipping his drink as he watched his mother scold the officers. His dad joined him. Both of them knew it was better to let her get it out of her system than to try to get involved. Besides, he’d probably never get to see police officers get chewed out like that ever again. Now if only he had some popcorn.

====

Note: if it hadn’t been implied earlier, Maddie and Jack are going to be involved/decent parents in this fic. It makes sense with how this story is laid out – their son has gone mysteriously missing 3 times. They try to keep an eye on him.

[alexeiadrae]

Sleep Paralysis, and What Makes Satisfying Horror

I starting re-watching The Haunting of Hill House today and got to The Bent Neck Lady episode. When I first saw this episode it completely creeped me out, and I am not easily spooked. Part of the reason I was so scared is because I get sleep paralysis, I developed it when I was a pre-teen and had it on and off throughout my life. The worst time was when I was working overnight shifts at a domestic violence shelter in grad school and had shift work disorder, which made the sleep paralysis more frequent and worse. It got better once I got a job with daytime hours and I’m now at the point where I rarely get it.

Before Hill House, I’d noticed some horror movies had tried, and failed, to recreate sleep paralysis. This led me to think about what made sleep paralysis so terrifying, and bottom line, it is the fact that you can’t move and act. And because this is so physical, I’d wondered if a movie or tv show could successfully recreate it. And then Hill House came. When I saw the first episode I suspected Nell had sleep paralysis, and it was because one of the things they’d done brilliantly was to use the artwork that has existed for centuries depicting sleep paralysis to show the Bent Neck Lady hovering over Nell as she slept on the couch.

The Bent Neck Lady is where the show really delivered. And re-watching it a second time, it still had a deep impact on me. Let me share some things about my experience with sleep paralysis first though.

I first had it at my grandparents’ house. I’d been traveling with them and we’d just returned to their house after traveling through several other states, and because of this I think my sleep patterns were a bit disturbed. Back then I used to sleep on my back (sleep paralysis more frequently happens in a supine position. Because of this, through the years I have trained myself to not sleep on my back), and I would become paralyzed and unable to move. It freaked me out, but I didn’t make a fuss or get help, it just wasn’t the type of kid I was. I made up the story of some ghost girl to scare my sister but I had no idea what had happened. Later when I was in junior high I woke up early, and when I was lying on my back trying to get back to sleep I became paralyzed and I saw a green light envelope the room and a fleet of black hooded figures surround my bed. In that moment I wondered if I was being abducted by aliens. I woke up, wondered what the heck was going on, moved back on my back...and it happened again. If I wasn’t sleeping on my back I was fine, but if I moved to my back it would happened again. Now, part of me thought it would be cool if it was aliens, but it also made no sense that they would abduct me multiple times a night every time I laid on my back. But at the time I had no explanation.

I didn’t say anything to my parents. I didn’t want them to think I was losing my grip on reality. I later found out what sleep paralysis was when I read Carl Sagan’s The Demon Haunted World.  It explained all about sleep paralysis and how people in European cultures used to interpret it as demons but now people interpret it as alien abductions. Once I’d read that I did talk to my parents about it because it had a harmless explanation, and both of them told me they get it as well. One of my mom’s sisters also gets it, so it runs in my family to say the least. I am definitely the one who has been the most affected by it.

Just because I had an explanation it did not make the episodes less scary. Because in the midst of an episode there is this real sense that I am going to die. And the kicker is that I don’t experience visual or auditory hallucinations most of the time. While I have experienced my fair share of them, most of the time I have one of two sensations, the less common one being this sense that right outside my door is a homicidal maniac who wants to kill me and if I don’t grab my phone and call the police and run he will, but I can’t move. But the most common feeling is this sense that I am suffocating and if I don’t move right then and there I will choke to death. But during one of those episodes I am so helpless I can’t even change the position I’m in in bed.

And that, good people, is what makes sleep paralysis so terrifying. You have no control of your body. You can’t lift a finger to help yourself. Even after all these years, after knowing that no one has choked to death during sleep paralysis, after knowing the feeling of suffocation is all in my mind, it feels so real in the moment that most of the time I still go into a full fledged panic when it happens as I tell myself repeatedly, “wiggle your big toe.”

If I can get my toe to move and focus EVERYTHING on getting my toe to move I can usually snap out of it. Sometimes it is easy. Other times it is hard. Being able to act and move is fundamental to keeping ourselves safe. And when you can’t, when you lose control of that, it is terrifying.

Because what if an emergency actually did happen while I was paralyzed, and I couldn’t act?

Which is why the death of Nell’s husband when she has an episode is so terrifying to me. The episode expertly broke down what makes sleep paralysis so scary, the loss of control, and then realized my worst fears as some who experiences sleep paralysis. And then added an extra layer of terror with that ending.

The Bent Neck Lady is the most terrifying horror shows I have seen and I think it will always remain so. It hits all the right spots and I am glad I chose to revisit it this Halloween season. The Haunting of Hill House is spot on all around and I can’t recommends it enough.

And now, here’s hoping I don’t have nightmares!

[lennydaisy]

EPIPHANY SERIES // OUTER BANKS // CHAPTER FOUR.

(n.) a moment when you suddenly feel that you understand. or suddenly become conscious of something that is very important to you.

                  “Care to seize the day, my friend?”

Outer Banks                                                                                                                 Season 1-                                                                                                                      FEM OC! and ?

Warnings! This chapter does have mentions of violence and panic attacks.

Here’s the link to Chapter 3 in case you haven’t read it already <3 Check it out!!

The Outer Banks isn't exactly a big island. With a population of 50,000, what do you expect? Everybody knows everybody. Kooks know Kooks. Pogues know Pogues. And unfortunately, Kooks and Pogues know each other too.

They might have tried to divide the island, but they can't divide the people.

There are no secrets in the OBX and if there is, they get found out eventually. That's what tends to happen when you're at each other's throats constantly. Anything can happen, especially when someone's reputation is on the line. Also, when you live in a community where the only thing to do this work, fish, and then work some more, even the most unsuspecting people will begin to buzz with excitement at the chance of an interesting day. Even if what they're talking about isn't true at all.

I learned this first hand when my dad went missing. Anyone and everyone will jump at the chance to start rumours, wanting to be the first one to claim they know for a fact what happened. Shocker, but these people don't know shit.

"I heard he was abducted by aliens."

"No way. Did you not see his beard? He was obviously an addict."

"Maybe he followed the mom. With children like that, I'd jump at the chance to leave too."

"Maybe they did it."

It feels like history is repeating itself.

Irritation rips through my body as I tug off my shoes, hopping in an attempt to see the damage done to my heels. Grimacing at the blister that has found its home on the back of my ankle, blood spotting around the brim of my now white, stained socks.

Pushing forward through the streets of the cut, just wanting to get home, I keep my head ducked down, walking on the balls of my feet in hopes of dodging the small stones that litter the path. The summer sun now at its highest point in the sky, beating down on me overhead as it burns my scalp, leaving a painful tingle at the crown of my head.

It's the start of the sunny season. The best time of the year. Endless nights filled with drunken rushes and hearty emotions. You lose yourself in the blaze and are completely content with never finding your way out. Shopping cart races down the uneven streets. Dancing freely on the dim-lit porch. Getting attacked by an army of mosquitos. And watching the stars twinkle from the comfort of a scratchy hammock. That's summer.

Some residents of The Cut spend their summers fishing and having disorganised garden parties. Others still have the misfortune of having to work through this obnoxious heat and have to deal with even more obnoxious Kooks.

Believe it or not, it's not the teenagers that are the biggest hassle on the island. It the elderly. And we have plenty of them. During the winter they're like hermits, never leaving the comfort of their homes. Delivery services and the postman become their best friend for four months of the year.

When summer arrives it's game over, especially for those Touron families who just wanted to get away from the bustle of the in-country. Only to be welcomed by off-the-rails pensioners.

The cliché for Fireman is to save cats from trees, right? Not at the cut. A few summers ago I had to call the fire services to collect the 83-year-old lady who managed to get herself stuck in the tree just outside the Château.

It was a weird experience. All most cult-like. The old lady laughing her head off as a group of elders cheered her on. I did try to get her to come down, but I got told to 'live a little,' and got a shoe to the face courtesy of the lady in the tree.

Point proved. They're batshit. The tiniest bit of sun drives them insane after being hauled up inside for no one else's fault but their own. Someone should tell the poor dearies that winter in the Outer Banks isn't like the ice age.

That's why what I'm currently looking at is terrifying.

In a freshly mowed lawn, all seated in orderly rows beholds what appears to be the street's resident elderly. Perfectly placed garden tables covered with toppers, bottles of wine fully on display, even though they appear to be drinking out of teacups, and the mouth-watering smell of BBQ meat. It seems like the perfect way to spend the summer afternoon.

Diverting my confused gaze from surprisingly stable elderly, I pick up the pace, limping my way past the garden. Hoping that my grumbling belly doesn't sound as loud as I believe it too.

"Did you hear about Scooter Grubbs?"

"Oh yes. Poor soul. He didn't deserve to die, he was a good man."

"Good man!? If he's a good man then Peter here's a Godsend."

"Hey!"

"I caught him in a Grady White the other day, probably stole it."

Grady White?

"It's just a coincidence. It's just a coincidence. It's just a coincidence." I thought out loud, now practically run back to the Château. My brain working a mile a minute, the conversation that I heard playing on repeat.

'Scotter Grubbs.'

'Die.'

'Grady White.'

'It's just a coincidence!'

Slowing to a walk when I spot my house, lightly as possible I tiptoe down the dirt path, my feet hating me for every stone and stick that I seem to stand on. My hands swinging back and forward, the laces of my shoes slapping against my thighs as I voice my thoughts, "It just some freaky coincidence. Maybe I've been voodooed? Maybe I just heard wrong? Yeah! That's it, I should clean my ears, I'm hearing things wrong-"

My tangent of self-explanations ease to whispers as I catch sight of Pope, alone, at our small dock, appearing to be securing the 'HMS Pogue' from becoming adrift. About to call out to my friend, wanting to tell him about the crazy gossip that I heard on my walk home, but Pope sees me nearing the Château and makes a mad dash back into my house.

'It's just a coincidence?'

Brushing off the boy's odd action, I continue my walk to the front door, wanting nothing more than to just kick my aching feet up and chill.

"Deny, deny, deny."

Pushing open the sheer porch door, the room falls into an abrupt silence. Pope finding interest in his hands. JJ flicking his lighter. John B throwing an empty beer bottle from hand to hand. And Kiara finding interest in her shoes.

Not even standing in the house yet, the door still being held in my hand, I just gaze at my friends in amusement. Licking my dry lips, I toss my trashed shoe's beside the coach that is being occupied by Kie and Pope. Not even blinking an eye, I make my way over to the straw chair, next to the recliner that holds JJ.

The usually satisfying noise of the distressed straw under my weight echos around the room with an unsettling crunch. I wait. Picking my chipped nail posh off my nails, wincing as I place my feet on the small table in front of me.

I finally close my eyes, embracing the silence of the Château. The sound of distant crickets and the odd screaming of the gulls that roam the skies bring me to an oddly calm state. My body seems to sink into the surprisingly comfortable seat despite the uncomfortable looks that I can feel being sent my way.

"JJ stole a gun and money from Scotter Grubbs' motel room!"

There it is.

Pope finally cracking under the pressure of my laidbackness. Slowly opening my eye, I catch the glares been shot in Pope's direction. The boy has never been very good at keeping secrets, I don't know what they expected.

Turning to the blonde beside me, "You have a gun?" I ask warily. Not that I don't trust JJ, I just don't know how to feel about a firearm being in my house.

He doesn't answer me. No one did.

Placing my feet back on the ground with a painful wince, I look bored at my friends, "Is no one going to talk to me? You're going to keep me in the dark?"

I still get no answer, not even a look in my direction. The air suddenly becoming too heavy for my liking, I push myself up from my chair and make my way through the house. I can read the room and clearly whatever happened they don't want me to know so, that's that.

My room hasn't changed since I was four years old. My once pink curtains now faded with the constant sun shining against them. My lopsided wardrobe that is hanging onto its hinges for dear life, overflowing with the unnecessary amount of clothes I have. My oak bedside table stained with coffee cup rings and the head of my bed that is taken over by the herd of stuffed animals that I have accumulated over the years.

Everything in this room has a memory.

Like the glow in the dark stars that I stuck to the ceiling above my bed. JJ and I had a fun time that day. Bouncing on the bed in hopes of getting at least one to stick. From time to time the odd one will fall off and slap me in the face during my slumber, but that's expected when you're roof has been leaking since you were born.

Or the name that is carved onto the windowsill. That was a long time ago. It was a different time back then. I was a different Mason back then. Over the years I've tried to convince myself to cover it up, but I can never follow through. Despite how much I hate the way it stares at me in the dead of the night, they once used to be the reason the sun would always rise the next day.

The stuffy air seeming to follow me into my haven, I push open the window inviting the sound of the rustling trees and subtle waves in my room. Taped to the window is the many memories that I have captured in time.

There's me and John B on our third birthday, with obnoxious party hats with even more obnoxious tassels. Birthday badges that are bigger than our heads, and party horns in our mouths. Our eye sparkled with nothing but innocence back then. Those two had no idea what they'd grow to be. I hope they'd be proud if they saw.

There's one from the day I met Kie. My dad took it without us knowing, both of us to busy squealing and flailing away from the lobster we had just caught. It's not my best picture, my hair blowing in every direction as I wore wellingtons that were two sizes too big. I made a life long friend that day.

My favourite photo, against my better judgment, is one taken from the day of the boat race. My friend and I holding onto each like our lives depended on it. The sides of our faces smushed together with a laughable look of discomfort in our eyes at the idea of being forced to take a picture in front of the honourable boatmen.

I've never moved house. I was born in the Château and I'll probably die in the Château. My point is, I know this house inside out. Like, to get the hot water in the shower to have to tap the back of the showerhead three times. Or how if you want to sneak out and not get caught, there a loud floorboard right in front of the door. I never snuck out though so, I wouldn't know, I've just heard about it.

I know this place like the back of my hand, from every corner to every inch. And also every sound. When the all too familiar scream of the door breaks the beckon of silence I wished upon myself, I make my way to my bed. Getting comfy, my legs in a basket, my back pressed against the headboard as I stare out the window with my floppy elephant teddy placed in between my hands.

The patter of feet entre my room. My bed dipping with the newly added weight. The windowsill humming as it's used as a seat. The subtle strumming of my guitar. And the turning of my rusty, swirly, desk chair. They're all here.

I just frown my eyebrows at each of them, refusing to be the first one to talk. I don't know what happened, that's up to them to explain it to me.

"What do you know about Scooter Grubbs?" John B, being the first to speak up, asks.

"His uh- married to Mrs Grubbs?" I guess, but it has proven that I don't know how to read a room either, my joke falling short, "I've had to kick him out of Save-A-Lot a couple of times. He was creeping out Mrs Adams after she caught him shaking the charity boxes."

Letting my serious reply linger in the air, I ask the question that I need to know the answer to, "What happened to Scooter Grubbs?" What I heard couldn't be true, I had just seen him last week, perfectly healthy.

"His body was found in the marsh this morning," Kie whispers, her fingers still gently plucking the strings of my guitar as she refused to look anywhere else.

Shit.

"It was his boat we found this morning, wasn't it?" My words echoing through the silent room. Everyone minds seeming to be running with the news. What do we do?

"It just doesn't make sense. How does a marine rat get a Grady White?" John B throws the question that everyone is thinking out. It's true, Scooter Grubbs was never seen with more than $40 in his pocket and now he's cruising around with a boat cut out for a Kook. It's odd.

"Prostitution," Pope inhales sharply, not missing a beat to voice his opinion. I click my fingers nodding at the boy who is sitting comfortably beside me on the bed, "Or a sugar daddy?" I reason but then grimace at the thought of Grubbs being a sugar baby.

"Square groupers," John B states like its obvious. Turning to Pope who pretends to understand what John B is talking about, I nudge his shoulder, "I liked ours better."

"What does that mean? JJ?" My brother points at the blonde boy who has occupied himself with my jar of shells, inspecting them closely, "Straight smugglin'," he says, placing the jar back in its place, his attention now on the conversation.

"And I guarantee there's a serious amount of contraband in that wreck," John B promises. It makes sense. Who goes out for a boat ride during a hurricane? Someone who knows that there is no aerial surveillance and they could just fly right under the radar. It's a smart plan, but too smart for someone whose smugglin'.

"For the record," Pope starts, pulling out a wad of 100 bills that I can't help but gape at with large eyes. Scooter Grubbs had that kind of money but acted like he was homeless? Each to their own, I guess?

"If that is a smuggling ship, with illegal contraband on the inside of it... It probably belongs to someone else," Pope speaks the truth, waving the money around like its nothing to have this much cash in your hand.

'How much is there?' I thought. Deciding to find out, I snatch the wad from Pope's hand and begin to count it, "I'm glad you're here Pope," I muse, now at $2,000, "You guys have clearly never dealt with smugglers before. They're dirty pigs. Once they find out that..." finishing my counting, I place the notes on my bed, "$10,000 is missing there stash... Sorry to break it to you, but we'll be the prostitutes after that."

The four pairs of eyes on me causes me to shrink back slightly, "What?" I blink, "Did you guys forget about the Komodo Dragons? I can't get caught by smugglers, I'm probably already on a hit list."

"Minor details," Kie chips in, brushing off the hit list comment. "Taking it would be catastrophically stupid," Pope argues, siding with me, not being fond of the idea of being on a smuggler's radar with the way his body shakes at the thought.

"Right. Well, stupid things have good outcomes all the time," speaking of catastrophically stupid, JJ throws his pennies worth on the table, reaching forward for the cash, "All we need to do is figure out a way to get into the cargo hold of that wreck."

I can't believe we're even considering this. Stealing from a man who was just found dead not even a few hours ago. When did we stoop that low?

"Until then, we just lay low," JJ suggests, sitting comfortably against the windowpane with this dirty boats resting on the foot of my bed,  "Just act normal."

Having enough of the discomfort, I shove his feet off my bed and look him straight in the eye, "As normal as we can with a gun, right?" I ask, referring to the firearm that is just casually hanging out his back pocket.

Nodding my head at the boy, "Promise me you'll use it responsibly?" Smiling tightly at JJ as I hold out my pinky. He just laughs out a breath, looking around for any help from the other three in the room. Each just giving him the eye, all agreeing with what I had asked.

I don't think he understands. He has a gun. A firearm. They're dangerous and it's not that I don't trust JJ, it just makes me uncomfortable and scared that one slip up with that thing and JJ's future could be uncertain. All our futures could be on the line if he doesn't handle it like an adult.

Locking his pinky with mine gently, he looks me dead in the eye, straight-faced, "I promise."

Satisfied with this, I nod my head, getting comfortable on my bed again, "Oh, and before I forget," I start, making sure every one of them is paying close attention to what I have to say, "Don't leave me in the dark again. Do not trust me?"

Jumping up at my question, "No. No, it's not that," John B, now sitting in front of me, quickly shooting down my assumptions, "It's just... we know you'd want us to do the right thing," he spills gently as the other three just nod at what the boy said, heads down in thought.

"At least we acknowledge that we're doing the wrong thing," I laugh lightly at the irony of the situation. It's true, I want us to do the right thing. I was hoping that they would report the wreck to the coast guard and we'd get a finder fee. Fair, it wouldn't have been as much as they found in that motel room, but it would have still been more than we had before.

At the word 'we' their eyes snap in my direction and I can't help the small smile that is creeping its way across my face, "Yes, I said we," I confirm, "I'm not letting you guys take all the glory for our downfall.

Little laughs being shared, seeming content with our resolve. Pope is the first to speak up, "So, what do we do?"

Exchanging glances with Kie, both having the same thought in mind, "Kegger!" we cheer with happiness. Sensing no objection against the idea, especially after the conversation we just had.

Besides, what's the worst that could happen?

The Boneyard. Misleading name because as far as I know there are no bones in the Boneyard. I think everyone on the island has heard about the boy who broke his jaw because he fell after attempting to climb the dead trees that litter the beach. It's similar to that story your teacher tells you about the boy who swung on his chair and split his head open.

Keggers at the Boneyard are a summer must. Something about an aluminium keg filled with cheap beer is very appealing when you're under the blazing sun and being swept away with the winds of the waves. Chugging away your worries as you dance with someone who you'll most likely never see again.  

You can't fully understand the Outer Banks without understanding the Boneyard, its like a right of passage. If you're in, you're in, and if you're not, well, see you later.

It's like a three-layered burrito. There are me and my friends, the working class who put their blood, sweat, and tears into this island. There's the trust fund babies, the Kooks, who have never seen a hard days work in their life. Mostly likely just been dropped off in their stepdads range after a tough day at a 5-star boarding school.

Lastly, there are the Tourons. Or airheads, if we're being realistic. They come here for a week's vacation with their families and all of a sudden they claim that they want to spend the rest of their lives in the OBX. They're the chum for the sharks, fresh meat that everyone seems to throw themselves at.

"It's kinda weird when on T.V, we see people die, and they just sitting there," I overhear Pope attempting to flirt with a cute, blonde Touron, "but in actuality, they would be shitting and farting up a storm."

My nose begins to burn with the beer that just shot up it, as I hunch over myself coughing up a lung. The Touron boy who I was just casually talking too before, is now patting me on the back, asking if I'm okay, "I'm fine," I croak, my throat stinging as I swallow the rest of my beer.

"If you'll excuse me," I apologise to the boy, still cough as I speed walk over to my friend who fails to see the look of discomfort that is smeared across the girl's face.

Tapping Pope in the shoulder, interrupt his tangent about unrealistic standards of dying in movies, "Can I steal him for a minute, I'm so sorry," I excuse, as the girl nods her head rapidly, running at the chance to getting out of the conversation with Pope.

"What are you doing?" Pope whines, tugging free his arm from my grip that pulled him away from the blonde girl.

"No offence Pope, but we have to teach you how to flirt," I sympathise at the boy's failed attempt to impress the girl. "What's wrong with my flirting?"

Does he really want me to tell him why talking about people shitting after they die is not the best conversation starter? The boy looked genuinely looked confused, his doe eyes not seeing the picture. It's kinda cute.

"Absolutely nothing Pope," I pat him on the shoulder, not having the heart to tell him, so I won't, but I know someone who must definitely will, "Why don't you go talk to Kie about how great of an Aquarius she is?" I suggest, not giving him time to reply, pushing him in the direction of our friend, who too, just scared of a Touron. Fitting.

Empty cup in hand, I make my way over to the keg. Stepping over those lounging on the cold sand and bumping into those who drunkenly dance with their spirits high. Saying the odd 'Hey' and 'How's it going' here and there to the wasted teens that crowd the beach.

Standing patiently behind the person who is filling up their cup, I look around the beach spotting John B and JJ chugging their beers with a small circle cheering them on. I grin at the sight of JJ smashing his cup on the sand in victory, whilst Kie slaps him on the arm, probably ordering him to pick it up.

Turn back to the keg, I see the person just standing there, raising their cup to their mouth as they gaze out at the ocean. Clearing my throat, hoping they would move out the way, but they didn't. So, I try again. Nothing.  

"Excuse me," I say, now standing beside the figure as I grab the streamer that they refuse to move from blocking. Looking up expectingly at the person, it doesn't surprise me in the slightest who it is. Shaking my head, I keep my attention on my cup.

"Good turn out," Topper comments, still not even glancing in my direction as he observes the beach. 

Frowning, not understand why he is trying to even make conversation with me. I just shake my head, "Yeah," my voice laced with uncertainty, spinning around wanting to get away from the boy.

"Hey Mason," he calls out before I could leave, he attention now on me, "I want you to stay away from Sarah, alright?"

Tilting my head, not understanding why he's asking me this, "What?", but then it hit me, "Oh," I can't help but laugh. Toppers face twisting with irritation, jaw locked, as I try to compose myself after my drink spills on my hand.

"You don't have to worry Topper. I don't swing that way," still giggling as I reassure the boy that I don't want in on his 'territory', "Not fully anyway," I shrug, gulping my drink with raised eyebrows.

"I'm serious, Macy," he huffs, moving closer to me as I take a little step back halting his actions. About to question the boy's intentions, I spot the islands princess clad in a flowy summer dress, climbing onto the washed-up buoy.

"And I'm serious when I say you should probably get your girlfriend before she hurts herself," pointing him in the direction of the girl before waltzing past him, not wanting to be in his presence any longer than I need too.

"What did he want?" JJ asks, not even giving me the chance to sit down first, ahead of him spitting his distaste towards the Kook. "Nothing," I say, sliding in next to him on the dead tree, "Just Topper being Topper," my response being enough to ease his mind as he goes back to his beer.

The first Kegger of the summer was going smoothly. Everybody was having a good time, just drinking and getting to know each other. We had many beer chugging competitions, all of which triggered my acid reflux. We played limbo, which Pope surprisingly was an expert at. We even had a bootleg karaoke machine, where everyone had the pleasure of listening to me sing Céline Dion's 'My Heart Will Go On'.

The warm, long, summer day just as quickly turned to night. The shining sun saying 'Goodbye' as the full moon said 'Hello', illuminating us with its white light. People were calling it a night, exhausted after a day worth of drinking. The others, however, just seemed to come more alive. The magic of the moonlight fuelling their desires to dance all night long.

"Your hair," I giggle as JJ fills up three cups, his hair sticking out in every direction as the cold breeze blows his mane over his forehead, "What's wrong with my hair?"

The alcohol now running wildly through our bloodstream. JJ has had to practically hold me up after nearly falling at least five times in the last two minutes. I don't care. I was having fun with my friends. I'm letting loose. I deserve it. Not sure my dad would be too happy with the underage drinking, but I know he's glad that I'm having fun.

"Can you at least fix it for me?" JJ asks with the gleam of the moon reflecting in his dilated eyes. Nodding, I reach my free hand up, hesitantly, but gently, beginning to brush my fingers through his knotted hair. The blonde seeming to be closer than before, causing my hand to slow to a stop. I can't help but just take a moment to wonder, 'when did his eyes get so blue?'

My cheeks tinting pink at my thoughts. I blink away from his steady eyes that seemed to call for mine like a two magnets call for each other. Hoping he didn't feel the sudden change that I notice lingering in the cool air, I attempt to act normal as I erratically rub my fingers through his locks, making them messy again, before darting off laughing as I hear him call for me, "Get back here, May!"

Swaying, just like the liquids in my cup, I, not so steadily, making my way over to John B, who had found fascination in staring out at the tides. "Johnny B," I squeal, using his body as a shield from JJ.

The blonde had easily caught up to me, pulling me away from behind my brother, he tucks his arms under mine, spinning us around quickly. My legs flying around wildly as my beer splashes onto the sand, "JJ!" I beg, but can't help the rumble of giggles that pass my lips.

Stumbling as my feet are placed gently back on the sand, I watch as JJ snatches the half-empty cup from my hand, "What is in this?" he grins, pulling an unsure face as he takes a whiff of my drink, going to pass it to John B, "Hey bro, your sisters drinking this shit."

Missing my buzz, I try to grab the cup out of his hand. JJ just moves out of my staggering reach, his eyes seeming to be elsewhere, "Oh, wait. Hey, hey. Hey, Sarah!"

What is he doing?

I watch as JJ calls out to the Kook girl who was trying to walk past us, hand-in-hand with her boyfriend. The girl smiles slightly at the obviously drunk boy, "Hi," she greets and continues to walk away.

JJ is very persistent. It's one of his many traits. Now, when you mix his persistence with a bit of alcohol,  you either end up agreeing to things you usually never would, courtesy of his constant need for adventure and thrill. Or he'll push too far, not knowing to stop when it comes to certain people.

"Sarah, can I interest you in a tasty Milwaukee beverage?" he pitches like a salesman, holding the cup like it's a rare and expensive delicacy. When in reality, it’s just a mix of vodka and sprite that some Touron mixed for me.

"No, thanks," she declines politely, not really for a conversation, noticing herself that the boy was drunk. 'That's probably why he was talking to her,' I reason.

Drunk JJ is unpredictable. It can go one of two ways; He's either extremely attached or extremely disattached. He'll either want to hold you or you have to hold him. It's either you crying or him. There is no in-between when it comes to JJ. He's either on one side of the scale or the other. Even when sober, his emotions still run high, but give him a little bit of happy juice and you've just signed up for a foggy night.

"Is it not fancy enough for you?" he asks, now slightly pushing it as John B subconsciously eggs him on with drunken chuckles. I can't help, but just watch, as Sarah reaches back her hand for Topper to take. The boy has just been standing with his chest puffed up at the fellow blonde who is addressing his girlfriend.

"Hey, you know what? I'll take it," Topper suggests, his voice sounding deeper as the stumbles slightly, placing a friendly hand on JJ's shoulder, "Thank you, man. I appreciate it," he slurs, trying to grab the cup from JJ's hand.

"That's nice of you, Topper, but I didn't ask you," he points out laughing, moving the drink from Toppers reach as he points at him accusingly, "If you said pretty please, maybe?" he pretends like such simple words would change his mind.

"Oh, pretty please?" Topper laughs along, his jaw clenching at the joke.

I can tell Topper is drunk. Topper's a weird drunk. Kinda like JJ, but also completely the opposite. When Topper drinks he gets angry at everything, thinking that everyone wants to pick a fight with him. I don't know if its a guy thing? but it's definitely a Topper thing. He can't handle alcohol, I've told him this before. His emotions won't allow him to just drink and that's it. He always has something to prove when he's drunk, and it frankly ticks me off.

"Sarah," JJ tries again, holding the drink out for the girl to take, "You can have it," completely ignoring her red-faced boyfriend. It’s no surprise that JJ is proud of himself, he struck a nerve in Topper. Pissing off Kooks is what he was born to do and frankly, he does it well.

I've never told JJ this, but Kooks are scared of him. It easy to see. Every fight JJ has had, I've always had to clean up the mess. He always jokes that 'you should see the other guy', but I don't have to. JJ can hold his own and is willing to throw it down anywhere if anyone disrespects him or the people he cares about. They're always unfair though, 4 on 1, 6 on 1, it doesn't matter, because JJ always wins in the end, despite coming out looking the worst sometimes.

Right now Topper is the perfect example of that. Having enough of JJ's persistence, he shoves the cup back making me gasp was the cold liquids splash over my shirt and sticks to my hair. That was enough for JJ. Clenching his fist tightly on the front of Topper shirt, lifting him off the ground slightly with clouded eyes and a set jaw.

John B, Sarah, and I were all watching the scene unfold between the two blondes, being quick to jump in when it gets physical. Placing a firm hand on JJ's shoulder I push him back with John B, who blocks his vision from Topper, who too, is being dragged away by Sarah.

"You're so funny, man" JJ shouts over to Topper. John B trying to calm him down, snapping him out of it.

The tide had made its way closer to land, meaning we're all in close quarters with each other, all seated at the same part of the beach. It was no surprise when the small inconvenience caught the eyes of the party-goers. Pope is one of them, as he quickly rushes over to his friends.

"Diry Pogues!" Topper insults, breaking free from Sarah's grip, just to spit in our faces. John B wastes no time, shoving him harshly away from us, earning more attention.

I didn't see it coming, and I assume neither did John B. Topper marches his way over to my brother, swinging his fist at his face. 

Choking on the cold breeze, I go running for my brother who fell into the waves at the force. Pope being busy holding back the thrashing JJ, Kie quickly jumps in, wrapping her arms around me tightly from behind, stopping me from moving closer.

"We're supposed to be incognito, remember?" I think that plan went straight out the window when we decided to have a kegger and openly allowed our sworn enemies to join. There is nothing incognito about anything that is happening right now.

'Fight!'

I wriggle in Kie's arms as I helplessly watch Topper kick John B in the gut, pushing him into the ice-cold water again.

'Fight!'

The crowd around us seems to be getting bigger and bigger. My ears ringing at the excessive chanting.

'Fight!'

John B tumbles around the waves, trying to get up to his feet again, but Topper won't let him. Kicking him again whilst he's still down.

"Hey, John B, don't make me drown you like your old man, alright?"

'Fight!'

Call it blind rage or whatever the hell you want, but I cannot describe to you the way that Topper's words stopped my heart. It felt like I was stabbed. My constant thrashing caused Kie's arms to give in with tiredness.

Maniacally, my wild eyes search the mob as a preditor would their prey. I spot it, grasped between the fingers of a stranger. Pulling the bottle harshly from their hands, my breathing becoming erratic as I stumble my way down to the oceanfront. My sight set on my target.

"Mason!"

"No! Macy stop,"

"May!"

The calling of my name went in one ear and out the other. The only sound I could hear was the smashing of the bottle as it collided with Topper's head. The beach seemed to fall into silence. For a moment all I could hear was my blooding pumping through my veins. I can feel my heart in my throat.

I feel frozen in time. Unable to move as I watch the shards of glass dance under the yellow moonlight. The water rushing past my ankles. My feet sinking into the wet sand. My breath is uneven. The sharp bottle top that I was clutching tightly, slips through my fingers, getting washed away by the tide.

Topper, after a few seconds of blank staring, feels the crown of his head. Turning around, fingers stained red. His dead, black eyes piercing into mine, filled with unwavering bewilderment.

I want to blame the alcohol, or the cold, for the way my knees are chittering, but after seeing my brother get punched, I became stone-cold sober. I refuse to blink, not wanting to look away from the boy that is making his way slowly over to me.

My voice seems to be gone, holding my hands out pathetically, not wanting him to come any closer. My cheeks flushed red at the cold whipping winds. My eyes stinging with moisture as I wait for him to react.

The crashing of the waves and the chanting of the crowd become audible to my ears again. My face being pushed into someone's chest, pulling me away before John B could tackle a distracted Topper to the ground.

Fists smashing with flesh. Grunts, groans, and drunken cheers polluting the air. It was too much.

My lungs struggling to grasp a sliver of air, all in a state of panic. My ear pressed firmly against the person's chest, listening to the drumming of their heartbeat. My hands tucked tightly around the fabric of their shirt, just wanting to feel something.

My vision blurred as I watch Topper push my brothers face into the water, "He's drowning him," I swallow the lump in my throat, whispering in horror, watching my twin thrash around helplessly. It doesn't feel real.

A shiver dances it way up my spine, barely registering that it was JJ that was holding me before he passes my quivering figure over to an accepting Kie.

"Yeah, you know what that is," I hear JJ say, but I had enough for the night. Hiding my face in the crook of Kie's neck, forcing my eyes shut, not wanting to see anymore. But I didn't have to see it. I heard it. The gentle click of the safety seemed to echo across the silent beach, "Your move, broski."

'He's got a gun.'

The sound of pounding footsteps falls into rhythm with my erratic heartbeat. I could hear the blood rushing to my ears. My whole body feels like its on fire. My chest feels like it's going to explode. I can't breathe.

'Don't make me drown you like your old man.'

Something's wrong with me.

I can feel it welling up inside me.

It won't go away.

I didn't realise I was standing on my own again until my knees gave in. My head pounding on beat with the gunshots.

"John B!"

"May!"

Chapter Four: FIN!

A bit of a long chapeter, but I didn’t want to split it.

This was fun to write. Clearly Mason has some insecurities when it comes to being left out, or thinking that people don’t trust her. And this with be explored the further we go. There is a reason behind this fear.

I really struggled to write the fight scene, but I hope I got the general point across.

What did you think?

The next chapter will be the end of episode one. I feel like I’ve been writing for ages, but we still have another 9 episodes to go...

I hope you enjoyed that chapter <3

Also. if anyone would like to be tagged in future chapters just let me know and I will for sure do that!

*TAGLIST*

@xshinytrashcanx​ @prejudic3​ @annoylinglyaries​ @obxlife​ @bananasfromtarget​

[frustrated-writer-skyeknight]

The One with the Runaway Groom, Part 2

Previous

After Dimitri finished his Iced tea, Jack had the group moved back into his apartment especially since they were getting too much attention with a heavily sweating, nicely dressed companion. Plus, there was a call that needed to be made. Sooner, rather than later, before the cops would be called on Jack for abduction of an heir. Surely, Dimitri wasn't a child nor was it time enough yet to report a missing person.

But Jack also knew that his friend's parents didn't like him that much and wouldn't put it passed them to blow the situation out of proportion.

If that meant the others taking space of his apartment as if they lived there, for certain leaving him a lot to clean up after... Well, it wasn't like that wasn't already usually the case. At the very least, it forces him to clean his place often. And in the event his mom would drop by for an unexpected visit, the tidiness would prompt the idea: 'Hey yo, your son is doing fine and not living like a slob just because he separated from his ex-wife.' It helped that Jamie had moved out of his apartment and went to take up space in his older brother's guest room, something he couldn't do with Jack still living with Elsa originally since she used it as an workshop of sorts for any of her fashion design projects. So it wasn't like he was completely on his own in housekeeping, it had been rough going at first when Elsa first moved out and Jamie couldn't move in until he had finally paid off the lease in his previous, smaller unit.

"I’m fine, uncle Vlad. No, really. I know you haven't met him yet, but Jack's a good friend from college so don't worry about..."

Dimitri was using their phone. Because apparently, in his whim to run from the wedding, he forgot that he had given his Smartphone to hold to his best man and uncle, Vlad. Meanwhile Jack was refilling bowls with chips and pouring drinks for everyone, who were watching TV, Jamie was taking stock of ingredients that he could cook for he and Jack's dinner. After deciding on one, he closed the fridge and went to join the others at the center of the apartment.

"Ever notice that the most popular KDramas usually involve love triangles, petty jealousy, and cliché main guy heartthrobs? I could never understand the hype." Hiccup mused, taking a Dorito from the bowl Jack had set down. "Songs are awesome though, even though I don't know what they're singing about half the time."

Jack shrugged, pulling over an ottoman to sit on so he would still be near the chips. "I don't know, I only watched one so far. Because of my in-laws. Well, ex ones anyway. And Kingdom isn’t like that..."

"Yeah, but that one has the overused zombie infestation plot to make up for it."

"When will you guys just watch shows for their purpose?" Jamie raised a brow. scrolling through his phone and thinking of which film to watch instead. No one seemed too heavily invested in Start Up right now anyway.

Who even put it on then? Jamie supposed one of Elsa's friends or other, since this Netflix account was shared between her and Jack. Something they continued to share even after the divorce, as they didn't see the need to stop.

Astrid shrugged, "And what’s that?

"Entertainment."

"Well, when it’s actually doing its purpose I guess."

Jamie rolled his eyes, about to question why they weren't changing what was playing when he was cut off as Dimitri, from the Island counter, was starting to get particularly loud as he talked over the phone. "...I’ll feel much better if I wasn’t hearing dad cussing like a sailor in the background." He said in a bit of a huff, "You know what, just put him on and let’s get this over with…"

Jack took his own phone and paused Netflix, much to the ire of Jamie, so they could all turn to not-so-subtly eavesdrop on Dimitri, even Jim stares at the Russian after acquiring a muffin from the fridge.

"Yeah, it’s m─dad no─Well, if you stop cursing my existence long enough to let me explain─Is mom there? Cause she’d be rubbing soap on your mouth by now!" Dimitri spat at the phone angrily.

Jamie cringed, awkwardly getting up from the couch to head to his room.  Jack and the others passed the Doritos around. As far as he was concerned, it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before.

"─Me?! An ingrate?! I don't owe you anything; you're the damn parent, it was your job to provide those things! And you never even came to watch those Equestrian competitions I joined, and I only ever took up lessons on your demands; I never asked you to spend on those lessons!"

Jim didn't know what the argument was about, but he was definitely taking Dimitri's side. "Huh, dad troubles." he hummed as he walked back to the others, "A good enough reason for the Russian ran."

"In your case," Hiccup shrugged, "your dad ran though…"

That got him a glare from the part time Astronomy professor, "This muffin" Jim growled, holding the muffin towards his friend. "could be used as a lethal murder weapon, Haddock."

"In your hands? I don't doubt it, bud."

"Znayete chto, k chertu eto, ya prosto skazhu eto!"

Astrid, Hiccup, and Jim blinked in confusion. They turned towards Jack, who raised a brow in response. "I was his roommate," he said. "but I didn't learn his language. Turn up the subtitles or something."

"I’m gay, and always have been since forever. Even Anya knows!"

Jack raised his closed fist up, before a finger folded out, "Called it."

"He was your roommate at college." Hiccup pointed out leadingly, "Of course you called it."

The silver blond scowled at the brunette, "We weren't like that," he said. "More like he kept claiming he was bi, when I kept telling I already knew he was gay."

"Yeah well, tell mama I love her but screw you pops!" Dimitri huffed, putting the phone away to scream at it before bringing it back near his ear. "It’s my life, and I’m gonna live it the way I want…… Well, maybe I don’t need your roof to return to. I’ll just stay here…… Hey! he may be bottom feeder Jack to you, but he’s my friend bottom feeder Jack! And what the hell, his big ears don't even have anything to do with the possibility of him being a gold digger."

Hiccup and Astrid both snickered, as Jack looked unamused. "I guess we established I’m still bottom feeder Jack..."

"With big ears."

"I was pointedly not mentioning that."

Then, Dimitri continued with some tone of finality, his voice lowered as if sounding tired now, it somber up his audience. "It’s my decision now, dad… Well, maybe I don’t want to keep my inherita─" He cuts himself off quickly, his eyes widening. "No, no! I said maybe!" There was a click at the other end of the phone, and Dimitri's face fell. "Well, now I’m cut off." He places the phone back on the counter and slumps on a dining room chair. "Shostakovitch… I don’t know if the heatwave is just hitting now, or if I’m having a panic attack…"

At the phrase 'panic attack', Jack moved. The paper bags weren't where they usually were, and he remembered Jamie was the last one who went grocery shopping. He called for his brother, who returned outside to get the paper bag. The silver blond gave it to Dimitri, placing a hand behind the Russian's back as well to rub comforting circles against it, pretty much what they'd do for each other whenever one of them came back to their shared dorm room drunk after random frat parties they've been invited to.

Jack: Okay, just take calming breaths buddy. It's not the end of the world.

Dimitri: *breathing quickly, narrowing his eyes at Jack*

Jack: Okay, maybe it's a big deal but c'mon, don’t look at me like that. I mean, what were you expecting? Just… You know, think of less stressful thoughts. Think happy thoughts.

Dimitri: *inhales* I am *exhales* drawing a blank… Little help?

Jamie: 🎶Think of a wonderful thought. Any merry little thought…🎶

Jack: 😐

Dimitri: 😑

Jamie: 🎶 Think of Christmas, think of snow. Think of sleigh bells off you go!🎶

Dimitri: *throws off paper bag* Not like that.

Astrid: *shrugs* Made me happy. You should join the choir, Jamie.

Next

[myownsuperintendent]

New Fic: “Faith” (Welcome Series)

In Wyoming, Scully considers her own faith through her conversations with Emily. Part of my Welcome Season 11 AU (based on the false Emily casting rumors), set between “Conversations” and “At the House.” Rated G. Also here on Ao3; the whole series is here.

.....

When they go downstairs in the morning, both of the kids are gone.

Of course, Emily’s an adult, and William’s not exactly a baby either, at seventeen. And it’s not as though she and Mulder have any authority over them, Scully thinks. There’s no reason to expect them to consult with two near strangers about where they go or what they do.

None of that keeps her from a rising feeling of panic, when she looks around the house and doesn’t see them anywhere. Emily’s door is ajar; even William’s isn’t tightly shut as usual. Something has happened, she thinks. Someone’s taken them. And then, when her rational mind points out that they heard nothing, that there are no signs of a struggle: They’ve left. They’ve gone. They don’t want to be here with us. Because William’s made that clear enough, and maybe Emily threw in her lot with him, even though she’s seemed to want to get to know them. She wouldn’t blame her, might even admire her for it. But having this chance, even if it felt slim and complicated and heart-breaking, and now having it taken away again…

“Are their things here?” Mulder’s face is pale.

“We can’t go through their things,” Scully says.

“But if something—”

“We can’t go through their things,” she says; she hears her own voice sharp, rising. “We need them to trust us and we can’t go through their things!”

“Do you think they left?” he asks, pain in his voice. “You don’t think Emily…”

“I don’t know,” she says. She looks out the window; there’s so much land. So many places for two kids to get lost. They must have loved growing up here, she thinks, and almost hates the thought. “Should we go out and look?” It sounds like a wild goose chase even as she’s saying it, but she doesn’t want to sit here and do nothing.

They’re collecting their shoes from the guest room when they hear a car. When they rush downstairs, Emily and William are just closing the door behind them. She’s wearing a blue skirt and cardigan set; he’s wearing a button-down shirt and khaki pants.

“Oh, good morning!” Emily says, smiling. “Did you two find everything for breakfast? Will, don’t—” But he’s already pushing past them, on his way up the stairs. They hear his door slam. It still hurts, but the relief at knowing he and Emily are alive and home makes up for it a little.

“Where—” Her voice still sounds shrill, and she makes herself steady it. “Where were you two?”

She still sounds frightened, she thinks, because Emily’s face takes on a look of concern. “Oh, gosh,” she says. “We didn’t mean for you to worry about us. We were at church.”

At church. She was thinking abduction, abandonment, and they were at church, where many people go on a Sunday morning, which this is. “Oh,” she says. “Of course.”

“I’m really sorry if we frightened you,” Emily says. “You weren’t downstairs yet when we left, and I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“It’s okay,” Scully says. She’s clinging on to the kitchen island, she realizes; she lets go.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Mulder adds.

“We didn’t want to miss again this week,” Emily explains. She doesn’t say anything more, but Scully does the math; last Sunday was the day after they arrived. Things were probably too chaotic for Emily and William to think about church.

“That makes sense,” she says. “We just…I forgot what day it was, I guess.”

“It happens,” Emily says. “I should have mentioned it to you last night. We should have invited you.”

Now that’s a thought. She imagines sitting in a pew beside the two of them. Somehow, she doesn’t think it would make her relationship to her faith any more straightforward.

“It’s all right,” she says again. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Emily studies them, her brow furrowed. “Do you go to church, usually?” she asks. “I mean, you don’t have to…I mean, we do, but…”

“It’s not really my thing,” Mulder says, lightly. From the look on Emily’s face, Scully can’t tell if this is what she expected.

“I do sometimes,” Scully says. “Mostly at the holidays. I used to go to mass then with my mom. Your grandmother,” she says, wondering what that relationship would have been.

“Oh, you’re Catholic?” Emily asks, and Scully nods. “And your mom…is she…did she pass or…?” She, too, seems unsure how to navigate this relationship at second hand.

“Yes, she passed away a couple of years ago,” Scully says.

“I’m so sorry,” Emily says. “That’s…that’s very sad.” Scully’s struck by the words she chooses. She wonders if Emily is sympathizing with her or mourning for herself.

“Thank you,” she says.

“You could still come with us if you wanted to,” Emily says. “Everyone is very friendly, at our church. But you don’t have to,” she adds quickly.

Scully thinks about the two of them coming through the door this morning. William had been smiling, until he caught sight of her and Mulder. Maybe church is a place where he’s happy. Maybe it’s one where she shouldn’t intrude. She settles for, “Thank you for asking us,” which isn’t a yes or a no.

Emily knows she’s being diffident, she can tell; her daughter is no fool. But she doesn’t press it. She just says, “Did you have breakfast yet? Do you want to make something together?” And when they nod, she opens the refrigerator.

.....

Scully wakes up early the next Sunday, but she doesn’t approach the kids. She watches the car pulling away before she goes downstairs. Thinking about Emily’s cooking, she decides that she’ll make breakfast today; Mulder and Emily will want to share it with her, she thinks, even if William doesn’t. And even if he doesn’t, at least she can offer. At least she can let him know that she’s going to keep trying.

They come through the door, dressed nicely again, talking to each other. “…think about it,” Emily is saying. “Because I think it would make all of you happier…” She breaks off, when she sees Scully.

“Good morning,” Scully says. “How was church? I thought we could have breakfast…” William starts for the stairs.

“William!” Emily calls after him. “You’re not paying attention to anything I—” But her voice fades as he disappears from sight. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m trying.”

“You don’t have to,” Scully says. “Mulder and I will. It’s not your job.”

Emily doesn’t look as if she much cares for the idea of something not being her job, but she nods. “I try to keep telling myself,” she says, “that it’ll happen when it’s meant to. And it will.”

“Yes, when he’s ready,” Scully says. “We can have breakfast, anyway. The two of us. And Mulder will be down soon.”

“That sounds nice,” Emily says. “It was sweet of you to make this, Dana.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Scully says, even though it sounds kind of silly. “Well, one of the things I’m here for, anyway.” Emily laughs and takes a piece of fruit.

“Did you have a nice morning?” she asks Emily.

“Yes, thank you,” Emily says. “There was a good sermon. It…well, I think it helped me.” Scully wonders if she herself could say that kind of thing, openly, to someone she really didn’t know that well yet. She wonders if she wishes she could.

“Did you go to this church with your…?” She wishes she knew what to call the Van de Kamps. “Well, have you been going since you were kids?”

“Yes, since I came here,” Emily says. “I guess pretty much everyone around here goes there, if they’re going.”

“That makes sense,” Scully says. She forgets they’re not in the city.

“So we know everyone,” Emily continues, “and that makes it like home.”

Home. A fraught proposition for all of them. “Have you told anyone,” Scully asks, “about us?”

“Just Steve,” Emily says. “Otherwise no. Not yet. And I don’t think Will has either.”

“You know it’s okay for you to talk about it,” Scully says. “This doesn’t have to be a secret.” She doesn’t want it to be, but more than that she doesn’t see how it can be. Not forever.

“I know,” Emily says. “And I’m sure people would be nice about it. It’s just hard to explain.” That’s an understatement. “I’m doing all right, though. Like I said, the sermon helped.”

“What was it about?” Scully asks.

“Meeting people where they are,” Emily says. “So you can help them.”

A topic seems like it could hold meaning for more people than just Emily. “That sounds nice,” she says, hoping it doesn’t sound too weak, too vague.

“It was,” Emily says.

.....

Emily comes through the door on Saturday morning with a large shopping bag. “Toys,” she announces, setting it down on the kitchen island.

“I’m sorry?” Scully says.

“We’re a little old for toys,” Mulder says, grinning, “but it was sweet of you to think of it.”

“They’re for the church drive,” William announces. It’s still unusual for him for address them when he’s not responding to a direct question; Scully wonders if he’s trying to show them how much they still don’t know about their children.

“Yes,” Emily says. “I bought them yesterday after work. I thought maybe we could wrap them here.”

“Sure,” Scully says. “That sounds good.”

“Will, could you get the wrapping paper?” Emily asks. He nods, darting out of the kitchen quickly. But he returns soon enough, with Christmas wrapping paper, covered in wreaths and bells and smiling Santa Clauses.

They take the paper, a roll of tape, and Emily’s bag into the living room, and the four of them settle around the table to wrap the toys. It’s easier this way, Scully thinks, when they have a project to work on; they can just talk to the kids about the task at hand, not try to elicit feelings or deeper truths. Emily’s bought a range of toys: Barbies, stuffed animals, little toy cars, art supplies. “Wow, you got a lot,” Mulder says. “Aren’t other people bringing toys too?”

“Of course they are,” Emily says, tearing off neat strips of tape and lining them up along the edge of the table. “But I always like to get things. The more the merrier.”

“This is cute,” Scully says, taking a stuffed bunny to wrap. Looking at the toys here makes her think of all the years she missed. She’ll never wrap toys for her own kids, even if she’ll wrap them alongside them.

“Thanks,” Emily says. “They give us a list of things kids are asking for, so I try my best to get them.” She’s wrapping an art set. “I used to love these things. It’s so much fun, getting Christmas presents.” She and Mulder have gotten the kids presents, at least, Scully thinks. But she’s not sure if they made the right choices. After years of no presents, the first one holds too much weight. “I’m going to take them over to the church tomorrow,” she adds. “Maybe you could come?”

“If you’d like,” Scully says. In some ways it seems safer, going with the kids at Christmas instead of a regular weekend. There’ll probably be a lot more people there; they won’t have to face as many questions. Yet it feels loaded, too, this season of joy and miracles. You might say she’s got her miracle now: her children, found. Her family, together. It’s a miracle that she wants to believe in, that she desperately wants not to lose, but it’s work, too, every day. Of course that’s partly her own fault. Another complication. She shakes her head, sticking a piece of tape to the wrapping paper. “Are there any other special things your church does at Christmas?” she asks. “Besides the toy drive.”

“We have special decorations,” Emily says. “Lots of holly and all that.”

“And cookies,” William adds. “After the service.”

“Well, there are always cookies,” Emily says, “but the Christmas ones are especially good. And we have lots of singing.”

“Do you like singing?” Scully asks.

“Well, I like it,” Emily says, “but…” She pauses as if deep in thought.

“But she’s terrible at it,” William says. “That’s what she’s trying to find a way to say.” He grins. Scully tries to think whether he’s included them in a joke before. She doesn’t think he has. Maybe that’s another miracle.

“I am bad,” Emily says. “But that’s not the point, when you’re singing in church. Being good or bad, I mean.”

“I’m not a good singer either,” Scully says. She likes finding these commonalities, however tenuous.

“Aw, you’re not bad,” Mulder says. He’s wrapping an unwieldy teddy bear, and her heart surges with love. She’s been feeling that a lot when she looks at him lately, when so much else is uncertain.

“I bet the kids are really going to like these,” Scully says. “You’re…” She’s not sure what to say. You’re a good person, she wants to tell Emily, because she’s learned in the past two months that she is, truly good. She’s afraid the words will sound overly simple, that she won’t be expressing what she really feels. But she wants to be honest with the kids, to not hold back. So she says it. “You’re a good person.”

Emily smiles. “Thank you,” she says. “I try to be. I don’t think I’m anything that special. But Christmas should be about doing good things for people. That’s what we’re meant to do.” She ties a ribbon around one of the packages, carefully.

Maybe Emily’s right; at least, Scully feels a pull from the words. She knows that Emily’s faith is of a different brand from her own. Emily doesn’t have the doubts she has. Emily has things she knows she has to do—go to church, spend what looks like a week’s rent on toys for kids who don’t have any, be endlessly kind to the rest of them even when things are unbearably tense—and she does them. But the idea of Christmas as a time of goodwill is one that Scully can share.

“I’ll go with you tomorrow,” she tells Emily. “At least to bring the presents.”

“Oh, that’s great!” Emily says, and she’s smiling now.

.....

Yesterday was a hard day. They still have those. They’re not uncommon. They still hurt like hell.

It started off as a simple conversation—about baseball season coming up, about William playing, about going to see his games. And then it turned into a discussion of how they’d never seen any of his games before, how they had no right to be excited to see him play now, it had nothing to do with them, because they left him, they gave him up, maybe the Van de Kamps had ulterior motives but at least they had been there to help him learn to catch a ball, which was more than could be said for Mulder or Scully, and that was their fault, and they couldn’t just come in and start to care now and expect everything to be great. William slammed his door. Emily followed him, but when she came back downstairs, she didn’t say anything, only looked troubled. Scully cried in the bathroom that night, when she was getting ready for bed; Mulder knew she’d been crying, of course, and they held each other tightly in the guest room bed in the home of their children’s other parents, her head tucked under his chin.

They decided to give him space this morning, so they didn’t come down until after the kids left for church. When they get back, William gives them a tentative smile as he comes through the door. “Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” Mulder says.

“Hi,” Scully says. Maybe it’s enough. They eat breakfast together, the four of them, and talk about watching a movie that night.

Scully can feel the tension dissipating as she washes the breakfast dishes with Emily; Mulder and William are taking a walk. “Are you okay?” Emily asks, looking at her as she passes her a dish to dry.

She’s promised herself that she won’t make Emily her sounding board, but she doesn’t want to lie either. “Better,” she says. “Thanks.”

“Do you…” Emily pauses, scrubbing at a plate. “Do you…sorry if I shouldn’t be asking…do you have anyone who can help you? Or anything?”

She’s touched, but she doesn’t want Emily to be worrying about her. “Thank you for asking, sweetheart,” she says. “I have Mulder.”

“Oh, of course,” Emily says. “But…I guess I meant someone more outside.”

“You mean like a therapist?” Scully asks. “I don’t right now. But you’re right. It wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

“Or even…I don’t know,” Emily says. “It’s just that you’re always trying to take care of us. And that’s good, don’t get me wrong. And I think I kind of know what it’s like…not exactly, of course…but I try to help Will too.”

“You help a lot, Emily,” Scully says. “I just worry that it’s too much—”

“See, that’s what I mean,” Emily says, and Scully has to admit that she has a point. “But maybe if you had something to take you out of it all. Crocheting’s like that for me. And church.”

Crocheting and church aren’t necessarily analogous activities, in Scully’s mind. “What do you mean?” she asks.

“Well, when I crochet,” Emily says, “I don’t really worry about things, because I start concentrating on the pattern. And even when you don’t do a lot at once, at least you get something done, you know? There’s more there than there was before. And I think it’s the same way, with church.” She almost laughs, as Scully looks at her. “I’m really not explaining it very well. But I guess—well, it’s like the pattern. There’s a place for everything, even if it doesn’t look like it at first. I was upset about last night too, today, but it helped to be there and remind myself of that. And that we can work on things a little bit at a time. Just to think about being part of something, with other people…” She breaks off again. “It’s hard to explain. It’s just something that helps me.”

“That’s good,” Scully says. She means it, even if it can’t be true for her.

“So I just wondered if you had something that takes you out of things like that,” Emily says. “You don’t have to tell me what it is or anything.”

Scully thinks. “I don’t know if I do.”

“I hope you don’t think…I’m not trying to make you come to church with us,” Emily says. “It’s just that’s what really helps me. But it doesn’t have to help you.”

“It’s complicated,” Scully says. “There are…sometimes it’s comforting and sometimes it isn’t.” Emily nods. “Maybe because of everything I’ve seen,” she says. “In the FBI and…everything.” She doesn’t know quite what everything encompasses for her.

“That could be hard,” Emily says.

“Sometimes,” she says, “it’s hard for me to know what to believe in.” She doesn’t know if she should be saying this. She doesn’t really want to get into a whole theological discussion with Emily. She doesn’t want to shake Emily’s faith with her own unsteady fumblings. She doesn’t know if she wants to believe or not.

Emily’s face is concerned, as she looks at her, and Scully wishes she could say something to make her stop worrying. That shouldn’t be Emily’s job. She wishes it were easy, that she could just say, Of course, you’re so right, I’ll go back to going to church every week. She used to wish she could say that to her mom sometimes. Apparently, the ability to make her feel guilty spans the generations. (And it hasn’t skipped her, either. She’s very, very good at making herself feel guilty). She thinks about the times her faith has helped to free her and all the times it’s helped her pile that guilt on. “Sometimes I just feel small,” she says. That’s not what she meant to tell Emily. She doesn’t know, herself, if she means it as a good thing or a bad thing.

Emily nods but doesn’t say anything, as they finish putting the dishes away. “Well,” she says, “maybe I could teach you to crochet.”

She’s never been much of a one for craft projects (they seem like something she should like, but she always finds herself lacking the patience), but in this moment that seems nicer, simpler, and she nods too.

.....

Scully’s known all along that Emily would like to have her join them at church, even though she hasn’t said it right out. But it hasn’t been a place she’s wanted to go. She helped Emily bring over the toys at Christmas, but that was as far as it went; she didn’t stay for the service or take one of the (very delicious-looking) cookies. She’s not sure why that is. Maybe because it’s not the church she grew up in. Maybe because it’s hard for her to express her own faith. Maybe because it’s part of the lives her children have led without her.

But it’s Easter. They’ve been here six months now. Emily’s got a new dress and sweater; they’re bright yellow, and she looks beautiful. “Do you want to come with us, Dana?” she asks, and Scully thinks maybe she should do this for her. That this isn’t about herself.

“Sure,” she says. “I’ll come.”

They ride to church in Emily’s car, that morning. Emily’s in the new dress, and Will looks spruced up too: even his shoes are clean. Scully hadn’t really thought about church clothes when she’d packed to come here; she plucks at the collar of her blouse. They get some stares when they walk in, which isn’t surprising. It’s a small community, and she’s sure people have heard exaggerated versions of their story, which is wild enough as it is. But they sit down in a pew, the three of them in a row.

The order of the service is unfamiliar to her—more than she expected, maybe. There’s no Latin. She folds her hands in her lap, over the prayer book.

She looks over at the kids, sitting next to her. They look calm, at ease. When Emily catches her looking, she reaches out and touches her hand.

She tries to lose herself in this moment, like Emily said. In being here with her children, and in sharing something they might all believe in, even if it’s not in the same way. Maybe there can be a kind of faith in that.

[voltrontranscript]

VLDS7E7: The Last Stand, Part 1

Season 7 Episode 7: The Last Stand, Part 1

Transcript by @dragonofyang

Episode Summary: The Paladins make their way back to Earth, but upon reaching out to Sam Holt, discover Earth’s distress beacon and that the Galra have invaded. We catch up with Sam and the technological developments on Earth since his return four years prior to the Paladins’ approach, and the trials Sam and Colleen face when in the heart of the Garrison.

[Google Doc]

Hunk: I can’t believe it. We’re finally back to Earth.

Keith: Well, what are we waiting for?

Pidge: I’ll see if I can get a message out to my dad. Dad, it’s me, Pidge. Do you copy? We’re back in Earth’s solar system, and heading home now.

Sam’s voice: To any beings who receive this message--

Pidge: Dad, you’re okay. How’s Mom and Matt? Is he with you?

Sam’s voice: Planet Earth has been… Most of the citizens…

Pidge: Hold on, let me try to get a clear signal.

Sam’s voice: ...have been captured.

Pidge: What? Who’s captured? Dad, what are you saying?

Sam’s voice: Those of us remaining are making our last stand. If you get this message, please get word to Voltron. We need help.

Keith: Guys, are you seeing this?

Sam’s voice: To any beings who receive this message…

Allura: Oh, no.

Sam’s voice: ...Planet Earth has been overrun by the Galra.

Lance: The Galra have invaded Earth.

Sam’s voice: Most of the citizens have been captured. Those of us remaining are making our last stand. If you get this message, please get word to Voltron. We need help.

Hunk: It’s not a reply. It’s a distress signal.

Pidge: Dad.

[Scene change to a flashback, labeled “Four years earlier…”.]

Sam: Admiral Sanda, how long have I--?

Sanda: It’s been about a week since you landed. Sorry, we’ve had you under for most of the time.

Sam: A week?

Sanda: We had to run tests. You spent years in an alien environment. Look, Sam, the joint chiefs are eager to hear what you have to tell us.

Sam: Tell the chiefs I’ll debrief when I’m ready. There’s someone I need to see first.

[Scene change to a lounge in the Galaxy Garrison.]

Colleen: Sam.

Sam: Colleen, I’ve missed you so much.

Colleen: I thought you were dead. I thought I’d never see you again.

Sam: You’re squeezing me pretty tight. Being abducted by aliens didn’t kill me, but I think you might.

Colleen: Aliens?

Sam: On the Kerberos mission. Matt, Shiro, and I were taken by hostile aliens.

Colleen: So Matt is with you?

Sam: No, but he’s alive and safe. So is Katie. They’re together. Last time I saw them, they were just outside the planet Olkarion. They saved me. There was a device on my pod, a transmitter. Where is it? I can use it to contact my children and the other Paladins, cadets.

Sanda: I’m afraid we can’t allow you to broadcast yet. We need more information before you start sending messages into deep space. Any contact with alien species needs to be run through the appropriate channels. We need to be sure you’re not putting Earth in danger, Sam.

Colleen: I don’t care about your channels. I want to talk to my children.

Sanda: And you will, soon. We just want to debrief you first.

Colleen: Tell them what you know, then we can talk to our children and get you home.

Sanda: I’m afraid we can’t allow Sam to leave the premises. We’re not prepared to tell the world about the existence of alien life just yet. Remember, everyone thinks you’re dead.

Sam: So you’re holding me like a prisoner?

Sanda: Not a prisoner. You’re free to move about within the Garrison grounds. Just until we’re ready.

Colleen: If he’s staying, I’m staying, too.

Sanda: I’m afraid you don’t have the clearance, Colleen.

Colleen: This is the only family I have left. You’ll get me the clearance.

[Scene change to a meeting room in the Galaxy Garrison.]

Iverson: Here’s what we know. Two years ago, during your Kerberos mission, our scans picked up an anomaly at your location. Minutes later, we lost contact with you and the rest of the crew. In the immediate aftermath, we intercepted a transmission.

Unnamed Galra Commander’s voice: We found these primitive scientists. I don’t think they know anything useful.

Zarkon’s voice: Take them back to the main fleet for interrogation. The Druids will find out what they know.

Sam: That last voice is Zarkon, the emperor of an advanced hostile alien race known as the Galra.

Unnamed officer: How advanced?

Unnamed officer 2: And how do you know they’re hostile?

Sam: Do you have the device I asked for? The one from my pod?

Sanda: Bring it to him.

Sam: Before I left, I downloaded as much information as I could from the Castle of Lions. For ten thousand years, Zarkon has been expanding his empire, conquering vast swaths of the universe and harnessing its quintessence in order to survive and maintain power.

Sanda: Quintessence?

Sam: It’s an energy generated by living beings.

Bearded officer: You mean certain alien beings?

Sam: No. Quintessence is within us all.

Bearded officer: Impossible. We’ve never come across anything like that.

Sam: Maybe because this is beyond the realm of what you think you know. Have you ever traveled faster than the speed of light? Have you ever seen a living creature bio-hack nature? Have you ever come face to face with an alien warlord who’s older than the entirety of human civilization? Well, I have. And I assure you, it’s all real. Following our abduction, Shiro, Matt, and I were taken by Galra scouts to the main fleet where we were interrogated. After that, we were split up. I spent the next year at a remote outpost, working alongside other captive scientists researching and creating new technologies to be used by the Galra. I later learned that Shiro and Matt had been sent to fight in the gladiator pits. Matt would’ve been killed, but Shiro, he saved my son’s life. Later, Matt was rescued from a work camp by alien rebels. He now works alongside them, fighting back against the Galra. During his time on Zarkon’s command ship, Shiro discovered that Zarkon was looking for a super weapon hidden on Earth. Shiro escaped to get the weapon first.

Iverson: That must be when Lieutenant Shirogane returned to Earth.

Sam: That’s right.

Iverson: Following Garrison protocol, we placed Lieutenant Takeshi Shirogane under mandatory quarantine, but he managed to escape with the aid of several Garrison cadets. We later found out the one known as Pidge Gunderson was your daughter, Katie Holt, who had illegally enrolled in the cadet program under an assumed identity. The following day, the Blue Lion appeared on our radars. Long-range sensors tracked the UFO to the edge of our solar system traveling at speeds we’ve never achieved. It disappeared along with the ship. That was the last activity we had until your pod arrived on Earth a month ago.

Glasses officer: So that Blue Lion, that was the super weapon?

Sam: Part of it. The super weapon is known as Voltron. It’s made up of five mechanical lions. As fate would have it, when Shiro crashed on Earth, those same Garrison students that got him out of quarantine became the pilots, or Paladins, of the five lions of Voltron. The Paladins are doing everything they can to protect the universe from the Galra. But we must begin to bolster Earth’s defenses now, or we do not stand a chance. War is coming.

Iverson: So this Zarkon, you think he’ll attack Earth?

Sam: No. Zarkon is dead, but the Galra Empire is not stopping. There are factions fighting for control and looking to dominate their own sections of the universe. Without a clear leader, things are worse than before.

Iverson: So what do we do?

Sam: We hold a conference and announce what we know to the world.

Sanda: Absolutely not.

Sam: They need to know. And if we can bring the world’s top minds together, it might mean the difference--

Sanda: If we told the world there was an imminent attack, we’d set off a global panic.

Sam: But there will be an attack.

Sanda: When? How will the attack happen? Is there a plan to stop it? None of these things have been discussed. None of these things have been thought through, and until they are, we’re not going to be responsible for sending the world into disarray.

Sam: If you would allow me to contact Katie and the Paladins right now, we could begin to answer those questions.

Sanda: Very well.

Sam: This is Sam Holt calling the Paladins of Voltron. I’m on Earth. Please respond. Pidge, this is Dad. Come in.

Colleen: Katie, it’s your mom. Are you there?

Sam: The transmission’s not being received. There might be interference. We need to keep trying.

Sanda: We can have someone send out regular transmissions around the clock until we hear from them. But in the meantime, we stay quiet.

Sam: Very well, but we should at least begin preparations.

Iverson: We already have.

[Cut to an elevator in the Galaxy Garrison.]

Iverson: We’ve been studying the ship that Shiro crash landed in for the last year, and we’ve begun research on the ship you arrived in. We thought the technology would be exactly the same, but that’s not the case.

Sam: That’s because one is Galran and the other Altean, created by two different alien species. So, did you get it airborne?

Iverson: Unfortunately, no. We got the nav system and other instruments turned on by powering them externally, but the power it would take to fly them is unsustainable.

Sam: Hmm. The crystal must have been damaged on entry if you couldn’t power it.

Sanda: Crystal?

Sam: It’s the main energy source for most alien spacecraft. If you haven’t been able to get it running, then what have you been doing with it?

Sanda: We created a simulator based on the controls so that when we figure out how to integrate the tech into our own ships, we’ll be ready to fly.

Iverson: Commander Holt, I’d like to introduce you to the best pilots to come out of the Galaxy Garrison in the last year. These are officers Griffin, Rizavi, Kinkade, and Leifsdottir. They’re young, but their ability to adapt to new flying techniques is a step above.

Griffin: On behalf of my squadron, it’s an honor to meet you, sir.

Iverson: I’ve got them running drills in the simulator five days a week. They can take just about anything you can throw at them.

Sam: Good. Now it’s time to get them out of the simulator and flying these things for real.

Rizavi: But they aren’t working, sir.

Sam: Then we better get them working.

[Scene change to outside the Galaxy Garrison.]

Griffin: No way.

Rizavi: When can we fly them, sir?

Sam: You’re gonna be flying ships much faster and much more maneuverable than this in no time.

Rizavi: Sir?

Sam: This is just an Altean shuttle pod. The engine and functions are extremely basic. If we’re going to defend the planet against the Galra, we’re going to need better ships.

[Scene change to the Galaxy Garrison meeting room.]

Sam: When I was enslaved by the Galra, I was forced to work on technologies that are a hundred times more complex than a simple pod. And after I regrouped with the Paladins, I continued learning alongside the Olkari, some of the most amazing engineers I’ve ever had the honor to work with. They taught me everything I know about integrating technologies. These are Altean schematics. We’re gonna use these to upgrade our weapons, build new ships, and create a defense for Earth. Engineers will be in charge of salvaging what they can from the pods. Repurposing parts is of the utmost importance. Our pilots must get out of the simulators and into real ships powered by crystal technology if they hope to stand a chance against Galran battle tactics. It’s gonna be a steep learning curve, but I know they’ll get it. The Garrison will become the epicenter of technological advances beyond what this world has ever seen. In the meantime, we will continue our attempts to contact Matt and the Paladins. It’s imperative that we find out what’s happening beyond our galaxy. There is a war coming, and we need to be prepared.

[Scene change to another flashback, labeled “One year later…”.]

Griffin: Sorry, guess I’m too quick.

Rizavi: Not for my micro-pulse boosters!

Sam: How’s the response time compared to the previous generation?

Rizavi: Instantaneous, sir. It’s like it knows what I wanna do before I think it.

Iverson: It’s amazing what you’ve done in just over a year.

Sam: We’ve done it together.

Unnamed female officer: Sir, you’re needed in the communications room immediately.

[Scene change to the Garrison’s communications room.]

Colleen: It’s Matt. He contacted us.

Matt: Mom, is that Dad?

Colleen: He just got here.

Sam: Matt, are you okay? I’ve been trying to contact you and Katie for months. Where are you? What’s going on?

Matt: So, you didn’t hear yet?

Sam: Hear what?

Matt: Mom, Dad, no one has seen or heard from the Paladins in the last six months.

Colleen: No…

Sam: Katie… What happened?

Matt: No one is really sure. There are rumors that Voltron fought Lotor, then they just disappeared.

Sam: So, they could still be alive.

Matt: No one knows. But, Dad, listen to me. You need to stop broadcasting from Earth. Members of the Blade of Marmora and the Voltron Coalition are being hunted. Our army has been all but wiped out. The situation is bad out here, and the last thing we need is to put Earth in danger.

Sam: But how will I get ahold of you?

Matt: I have to go. I’ll contact you when I’m safe. I love you both.

[Scene change to Admiral Sanda’s office.]

Sam: It’s time. We need to tell the rest of the world the situation.

Sanda: Sam, I’m sorry to hear about your daughter, but we can’t get off course.

Sam: If we want to finish the IGF-ATLAS, we need more resources and more manpower. The world needs to come together so that we can take the fight to the Galra.

Sanda: You’re too emotional right now and you’re not thinking straight. We’re not building ships to go fight aliens in different galaxies.

Sam: But they need us!

Sanda: The citizens of Earth need us.

Sam: And yet you refuse to tell them the truth!

Iverson: Maybe we should talk about this later.

Sanda: We can talk later, but my decision will be the same. We’re not telling the people of Earth, and we’re not fighting in someone else’s war.

[Scene change to the Holt’s private quarters.]

Colleen: They’re gonna be okay.

Sam: They will be okay because they’re strong just like their mother.

Colleen: We’ve gotta do something. We can’t just sit here while our children are in danger.

Sam: We’re doing everything we can with the limited personnel we have.

Colleen: Then we’ll get more personnel and more resources. The admiral is making decisions for the rest of the world. I say let them make decisions for themselves.

Sam: You wanna tell the world? The repercussions could be serious. They could kick us out of the Garrison.

Colleen: It’s risky, but that ship may never get done otherwise. And I’ll do whatever it takes to see my kids again.

Sam: Okay.

[Cut to Sam and Colleen walking into the communications hub.]

Sam: You’re sure you wanna do this?

Colleen: I’m sure.

Sam: Alright, I’ll be broadcasting on every channel. You ready?

Colleen: Citizens of Earth, my name is Colleen Holt. I am the wife of famed astronaut, Sam Holt, and mother of Matt Holt. Two years ago, it was believed that they died during a deep space mission. That was a lie. My husband, along with his crew, were abducted by an alien race known as the Galra, a fact that was covered up by the Galaxy Garrison.

[Cut to Admiral Sanda’s office.]

Unnamed soldier: Admiral, you need to see this. They’re broadcasting on every channel.

Colleen: A year ago, my husband returned to Earth, but the Garrison forced him to stay in hiding.

Sanda’s voice: I’m afraid we can’t allow Sam to leave the premises. We’re not prepared to tell the world about the existence of alien life just yet.

Sam: But I refuse to stay hidden any longer. We desperately need your help. Not every alien species is friendly, and Planet Earth must be protected. Here at the Garrison, we’ve been working on creating advanced ships and weaponry.

Sanda: Get the rest of the guards.

Colleen: The footage you are about to see is real.

Sam: These are the Galra. If they find Earth, they will attack, and we must be prepared.

Griffin: Huh. Guess the cat’s out of the bag, huh?

Colleen: But there are those that have spent years protecting us. They are the Paladins of Voltron, and they come from Earth.

Hunk: Ugh, I can’t wait to be back home. I’m not really sure when that’ll be, but when I get there, I really want Uncle Filo to make some of his amazing pork lau lau. I can almost taste it now.

Lance: Hi, Mom, hi, Dad. It’s me, Lance. I’m here in outer space somewhere. I, um, uh, don’t really know what to say. Uh, I miss you guys. I miss you guys a lot.

Pidge: Mom, I’m so sorry I left without saying goodbye. I think of you every day.

Colleen: Now is the time to come together. To protect our world, we must be united under one cause.

Sanda: Override the lock. Lock them up.

Iverson: For what?

Sanda: For divulging top secret information.

Sam: Now, now, Admiral. Don’t get emotional.

Sanda: You disregarded a direct order.

Sam: You held me at the Garrison against my will. You lied about my death. You wanna control every situation, but face it. You can’t. The world needed to know this, and now that they do, it will be better for us. Right now, the world needs a leader that’s not afraid to face facts and you’re not it.

Sanda: And you think you are?

Sam: Yes.

Sanda: Get these traitors out of here.

Iverson: Stop. If Sam goes, I go too.

Glasses officer: Admiral Sanda, calls are coming in from all over the world. Citizens want to know how they can help. It’s incredible.

Sam: It worked.

[Scene change to the desert outside of the Galaxy Garrison.]

Sam: That’s the last one.

Griffin: Think it’ll work?

Sam: Well, particle barriers are tricky, but if my calculations are right, these just might act as a perimeter. What’s that?

Griffin: I don’t know. I didn’t think we were doing any test flights today.

Sam: They’re here. Activate the particle barrier immediately.

Woman: Are you sure, sir? We haven’t run diagnostics--

Sam: Do it, now!

End.

[dadzawa-adopt-dabi]

Prompt5- cosutumes

Dabi and Shigaraki centric. Kuroguri spoilers breifly come into play. Vigilante Shigaraki. slight Dabihawks involved.

Shigaraki had finally decided what he wanted to do. With Sensei gone and half the League of Villains going for rehabilitation he had floundered for a while, unsure that he could do anything on his own. Sensei had planned every move out for him and the LoV had followed his lead when he had still been lost. He had lost sight of what exactly he wanted to change about society. What he hated, What led him to AFO in the first place, Why he had been so upset at Heroes doing their jobs.

He still hated Heroes, somewhat, hated the security that they created. The helplessness they created. It was one and the same. A passerby to ignore a household full of yelling and a teacher to ignore bruises was the same thing as a Villain scooping a crying child up off the street. Civilians walking by the same child again and again refusing to help him, refusing to catch the reaching hand, was the same thing as a super Villain raising a kid into a successor.

When Kuroguri had come back to him, telling him he used to be one of those Hero hopefuls he hated so much, had angered him and confused him. Kuroguri staying by his side as he screamed and cried, calling him a betrayer had confused him more. Eventually Shigaraki had figured it out, Kuroguri stayed with him because Shigaraki needed him still. Plain and simple but still such a difficult concept for him to grasp.

Eventually he had figured it out, Kuroguri was trying to be what he’d needed as a child. Kuroguri was the help coming for him long after he had convinced himself there was no help for people like him. It had taken a lot of work and a lot of time but Shigaraki knew now what he wanted to do outside of destroying the world.

Destroying the world, Hero society, wouldn’t ever fix anything but create more people like him. Keeping the Heroes as they were just created more people who fell through the gaps. He didn’t want there to be any more children waiting for Hero’s to arrive while hundreds of people walked by. He could never be a Hero, didn’t want to be one, but he didn’t think he could continue being a Villain out to destroy the world either.

That’s how he ended up here, staring at a piece of paper on the table, several more in balls thrown on the floor. Vigilante was the most obvious choice for him. He had considered being a civilian but the thought of doing nothing didn’t sit right with him either.

He needed a costume to be a vigilante. It was so annoying, he didn’t want anything flashy but wanted something recognizable enough that if he was trying to rescue someone they wouldn't panic. It also had to run the thin line of intimidating opponents but not victims. Scowling he threw the current costume idea, sweats but with a cape, onto the floor. Toga had it easy these days, keeping her old Villain support gear and wearing it over everyday outfits as she trained to take over Girians business. 

“Still struggling with costumes? You don’t need one you know.” Kuroguri gently reminded warping away the crumpled ideas to the trash can without a thought, setting a mug of tea in front of Shigaraki at the same time.

“I want one though. I know that generally the purpose is to make it harder to pick out what’s decorative and what’s support gear. I don’t have any of that yet but the collapsible staff but I want something that's recognizable so people know it’s safe.” He scowled and started over, drawing himself and adding his weapon off to the side.

“You could always go back to wearing hands everywhere you can fit them.” Dabi snarked from where he had been quietly leaning against the table. Kuroguri gave a small snort at the comment. His personality having changed since he regained his memories.

“Keep it up and you can go live with your boyfriend you burnt piece of shit, you're over there all the time anyways just get married already. I want to be the best man.” Shigaraki returned the quip and smirked at Dabi’s subsequent embarrassment. 

“Okay, let’s start with just a list Tenko, What do you need?” Kuroguri tapped his pad of paper redirecting his attention back to his task.

“Moisturizer.” Dabi could barely get the word out through his own laughter, calming down at Shigaraki’s blank stare and joining him at the table. He stole the writing utensils from Shigaraki as he sat down. “Alright, I’ll help since you suck at this so much. First thing, you need a sweater. You get cold easily and are going to be out at night in all sorts of weather. Next you need either a bunch of pockets, a utility belt or a backpack.” He scribbled down items as he spoke.

“It seems like you’ve both got this handled for now.” Kuroguri stood up, a smile making his glowing eyes turn up into happy crescents. “I’ll come back and check later, I have to get going in order to make it to coffee with Aizawa-kun again today.” 

“How do you know so much about this? I assumed you never wanted to be a Hero.” Shigaraki lazily waved at Kuroguri as he left, confident that Kuroguri would keep his word and be back after catching up with his friends.

“I mean, I did for a short while. Just to spite the old man and because I thought it would free my mom if I could do it.” He kept jotting things down onto Shigaraki’s paper as he spoke. Avoiding looking at him when speaking, he always had been more open when Shigaraki hadn’t demanded eye contact.  “I have 3 younger siblings though remember? They all wanted to be Hero’s and they all wanted my help designing costumes at one point. You’ve never seen it but Shouto’s prototype costume was a joke. When he was a baby, me and Natsou were designing fake costumes for him, when we came up with one that completely covered the side he inherited from the bastard.”

“That was your guy’s idea? Honestly I was torn between amused and confused with that.” He looked at the paper, reading what he could from upside down. Ice packs and Heat packs, bandages, lotion was actually on the list but he let it slide when he saw the footnote attached. In case someone got stuck in a small space. Zip Ties and Quirkcuffs, a knife which he raised an eyebrow at and Dabi stubbornly underlined. “Makes a lot more sense now though.”

Dabi shrugged before he started drawing a sweater and pants onto Shigaraki’s character. Labeling each piece with a tiny description. Hooded sweatshirt with zip pockets and cat ear hood. Cargo pants that were snugger fitting so they weren’t falling as he was running. A backpack decorated with more cat ears and a short tail. 

“Any sort of symbol wou want? I’ve just kinda added the cat ears because most children will go straight for them and rub at them even when they are fake.” Dabi paused and looked over at Shigaraki.

“I can’t believe you’ve come up with a decent design in a few minutes when I’ve been struggling for hours to come up with absolutely anything.” Shigaraki stated incredulously as he stared at the neatly filled out sheet of paper. “How come you didn’t help sooner?”

“You didn’t ask. Plus I just wasn’t sure what you were after, Different people want their costumes to do different things.” He kinda shrugged it off. He would have helped had Shigaraki thought to ask the person he knew had been raised in all this crap. “Symbol? Anything will be fine Shig. It just has to be recognizable and it should probably be easily made considering that you can’t outsource this to a company.”

“A red cross? Or that symbol with the snakes around the staff?” He hesitantly suggested.

“We don’t want people thinking you're like, medical or something.” Dabi pointed out and started tapping the pencil in thought. 

“How about a red H on a silver background? Like from one of those online games you play. They’re pretty recognizable while still being associated with primarily gaming. Plus the silver on it would reflect any light making it easily visible.” He scribbled on the paper before turning it to Shigaraki. “Something like this maybe?”

Honestly Shigaraki thought it looked fine, it was finally something he could see himself wearing and while it wasn’t intimidating like he had wanted it was recognizable. Recognizable and kid friendly were all he truly needed to start out with. 

“Who knew you had talent as a designer?” Shigaraki stole his notepad back. Taking a photo of the page and sending it off to Kuroguri with a text declaring it a prototype.

“Just because your useless ass was stuck didn’t mean everyone else would have issues with it.” Dabi smirked as he stood up and stretched. “Thanks for letting me help, you really needed it.”

“You're a burnt piece of shit and I hope the pigeon abducts your smug ass soon.”  Shigaraki commented as he kicked out at Dabi’s legs half heartedly. Just wait until Dabi needed help with something and Shigaraki could tease him the whole time.

[nikkzwrites]

Yesterday Once More | Dark Fix-It Fic Series | Chapter 7

A/N: This fic is one that I started with my OC because honestly, I personally didn’t like how season 3 ended. So I am rewriting all of Dark with my OC Annalise Dahlheim. I hope you all like it. Some things will be expanded more on just for more depth to Dark that season 3 kinda skipped over so…. yeah.

CW: Canon Typical Triggers: Smoking, Sex, Language, Drugs, Drinking, Death, Violence, Suicide Mentions, Cutting, Violence.

Word Count:  3.7k

[First Chapter] [Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter]

Helge woke up in a child’s themed room. It was blue with foxes and hedgehogs. A very weird chair sat in the middle. The young boy studied it as his ear bled. This was the memory old Helge woke up to that morning. It helped him remember everything.

Jonas woke up in an enclosed log deer stand. He checked to see if the letter was still with him before he climbed down and started on his journey to go find Mikkel. He first needed to start at the school. He saw a frizzy-haired brunette in the hall sitting by herself in the hall. He decided she was probably the best to ask, “What day is it today?”

“Pardon?” Regina pulled off her headphones.

Jonas repeated, “What day is it today?”

“November 9th,” She answered.

Jonas sighed and admitted, “I know this sounds crazy, but what year?”

“1986,” She shook her head in confusion. Jonas thanked her and started to walk away, but got called back by the girl, “Wait! Are you looking for someone?”

Jonas stared at the girl confused on how she would know this, “Yeah. A friend. Michael Kahnwald.”

Regina shook her head, “Never heard of him.”

“Ines Kahnwald’s son,” He tried to clarify.

“The nurse,” Regina asked. She shook her head, “She doesn’t have any children.”

Defeated, Jonas then asked, “Do you know where I can find Ines?”

Regina reached for her bag after hearing the bell, “The hospital probably.” She smiled at him, “Well, see you.” As she tried to leave, she got pushed and bullied.

Jonas stared. His heart went out to his friend’s mother. She, in some way, reminded him of his Annalise. She was kind, sweet, and would help out a random stranger. He wondered silently if that’s why his best friend was always giving Annalise a hard time. He shook his head, he couldn’t focus on that right now. He had to make it to find Mikkel then get home.

Egon sat in his office when he got the file from his superior about the power plant. He sat and silently wondered if Ulrich was involved at all in this.

In the present, Ulrich looked around in the files about Mads scattered in Mikkel’s room as if like a summoning circle that he could get all the information from some specter.

Woller, at the same time, walked into Charlotte’s office with the power plant search warrant. Charlotte quickly hung up the phone and grabbed it to head to the power plant.

At the same time 33 years ago, Egon drove to the power plant. He was greeted with the face of Helge. Just the man he wanted to see.

“Anything I can help you with,” Helge asked with a smile.

Egon shook his head, “It’s about the missing Nielsen boy. The night he disappeared, you were on your shift, right?”

Helge looked as if he needed to think back, but honestly, he was just confused and concerned that the man had found out about him, “Yes.”

“Martin wants to document and corroborate the routines and times of everyone who was near here that night,” Egon explained to the man.

Helge nodded in understanding. He checked his watch then told the police officer, “I have to do my rounds and check the blocks now.”

Egon nodded, “Okay, let’s arrange a time you can stop by the station then.”

Helge stared out into space for a moment then asked, “The day after tomorrow?”

“Tuesday?”

“Is 10:30, okay?” Helge asked the man.

Egon nodded, “That works. Sorry for the trouble.”

Helge shook his head and chuckled, “It’s no trouble. I just didn’t see anything. What I mean is… Everything was totally normal.”

Egon nodded and asked, “Your shift ended at six?”

Helge nodded, “Yes, that’s when the night shift starts.”

“Did you take your car,” Egon asked.

Helge nodded, “I took the state road.”

Egon looked up confused, “Were you heading somewhere else? Because you took the state road instead. Isn’t the forest road shorter?”

“Yeah,” Helge conceded, “I just picked something up for my father.” Helge nodded towards the officer and said, “I’ll see you Tuesday.”

Egon interrupted the other man’s leaving and said, “One more question. Did you see his brother anywhere that day? The older Nielsen boy, Ulrich.”

Helge shook his head, “Nope. Til Tuesday.” He closed the gate. 

In 2019, Ulrich spotted this note in Egon’s day planner.

Aleksander walked out followed by a bunch of armed guards. Charlotte stared at him annoyed. She really did not enjoy this show of force. She held up the warrant for him to see. Aleksander, without a word, motioned for the guards to open the gates for her and her crew.

Hannah slowly pulled herself away from Annalise and out of bed. The rain and thunder had woken her up from her deep slumber.  She walked into the kitchen and started to make breakfast. She was happy that she hadn’t woken the girl up yet. And as much as she loved her son, she was glad to be able to talk to Annalise alone. The woman slowly brought breakfast to her bedside. Hannah sat on the edge of the bed and gently rubbed Annalise’s shoulder, “Hey. Annalise.”

Annalise shook herself awake. She looked at the woman smiling down at her. Annalise smiled, “Oh is Jonas home?” Annalise sat up and yawned.

“No,” she explained, “But I think he will be back very soon.” She cupped her cheek gently then pulled away to motion to the food, “I actually made you breakfast. To thank you for being in Jonas and I’s life.”

Annalise smiled gently. She gave the woman a hug. The girl asked, “Can I stay with you until he gets back...I…”

Hannah smiled, “If that’s what you want, but I don’t think Ulrich will come back to hurt me.” She pet the girl’s head and said, “You have a large heart. You remind me very much of my husband, because of this, I can tell you love my Jonas very much. Thank you so much. We both need someone like that in our lives again.”

Back in 1986, Jonas walked through the rain trying to get to the hospital. He was just following the road huddled beneath his yellow raincoat. He started to panic when the police car had noticed him.

Egon, seeing a boy walking through the rain, couldn’t just leave the boy there. He lowered his window and asked, “Can I help you?” He watched the boy shake his head. Then Egon asked, “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

Jonas tried to quickly come up with an excuse, “I’m sick.”

Egon nodded and said, “You look fine to me.”

“I hurt my arm,” Jonas tried to come up with a cover, “I’m headed to the hospital.”

Egon nodded and motioned to the boy, “Get in. I’ll drive you there.”

As Ulrich tried to investigate more in the 33-year-old files of Mads, he noticed that Helge had no statement about what had happened that night. He then called Charlotte and explained. “Did you know that in 1986 your father-in-law was to be interviewed in my brother’s case?”

“No,” Charlotte said tailing the canvassing team. 

Ulrich then told her, “I searched through all the files. Helge was supposed to be questioned on Tuesday, November 11, 1986. Exactly 33 years ago, from the day after tomorrow. But there is no statement. He didn’t show. There’s just a note. ‘Why not forest road?’”

“So you think Helge abducted Mads in 1986,” She asked the man, “And now Mikkel and the other boys 33 years later?”

“Where is he now,” Ulrich asked.

“In a nursing home Ulrich!” She sighed, “He’s 75 years old. He has dementia and the evening Mikkel disappeared, Helge was with me.”

Ulrich argued, “But the evening before Yasin vanished, Woller found Helge in the forest.”

“And took him back to the nursing home,” Charlotte cried, getting annoyed. He was sounding more and more paranoid with every passing day.

“Somehow this all has to do with Mads,” Ulrich claimed.

Charlotte shook her head, “You are barking up the wrong tree.”

“Maybe,” Ulrich admitted, “but maybe not.” He ended up hanging up on his boss.

Charlotte turned, noticing a route through the field that went into another part in the woods. She started to follow it to try and figure out more.

Jonas rode in the car with Egon. He was honestly just wondering how his mother and Annalise were holding up with him suddenly gone without much of a word. Did Lise think he was out with Martha right after having everything happened? Was she wondering when he was going to be home? Was she cry-

“What’s your name,” Egon asked, pulling the boy from his thoughts.

“Jonas,” he said without much thought as he turned to the man.

Egon then asked, “And why didn’t you have your parents drive you?”

Jonas shrugged, “My mom is at work. My dad’s dead.”

Egon then asked, “Where does your mother work?”

“At the power plant,” Jonas explained knowing that was an easy out for him.

Egon nodded, “The power plant has changed Winden. This place used to look different.” He looked towards the boy for a second, “What’s that there?”

Jonas pulled out his earbuds from out his pocket and showed it to him, “Earphones.”

Egon laughed, “Those aren’t earphones.”

“You just put them in your ears,” Jonas explained.

Egon shook his head, “Now I’ve seen it all.”

In 2019, Charlotte ended up following the path. She found the gated cavern that Claudia herself was once led to. She knew she had to talk to Aleksander about this.

Egon, soon, pulled up at the hospital just 33 years prior. He let Jonas out of the car, but not before asking, “Among you teenagers, Is Satanism a thing right now?”

Jonas laughed. “No idea,” He was so grateful for the laugh before he realized the officer was serious. He shook his head and replied, “No, I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

Egon then advised, “Call your mom to pick you up, it isn’t the best time to be walking through the woods alone right now.”

Jonas nodded. He exited the car thanking the officer. He slid his bag back on his back before walking into the hospital. He walked to one of the nurses and explained, “I am looking for Ines Kahnwald.”

“She was just outside with the boy,” She explained.

Jonas shook his head, “What boy?”

Her brows furrowed. She studied the boy, “What do you want Ines for?”

“I am visiting and I locked myself out,” He lied.

She shook her head, “Ines didn’t mention a visitor. Are you related?”

“Yes,” Jonas said, “You could say that.”

She motioned towards the back doors, “Maybe she’s still out back. Otherwise, I’ll tell her when I see her.”

Jonas shook his head, “No, I don’t want to be in any trouble.”

33 years after that encounter, Ulrich snuck into Helge’s room. He walked over to the man to whisper to try and wake up the older gentleman. When Helge woke up, Ulrich introduced himself, “My name is Ulrich Nielsen. I am a police officer. Don’t be scared. I just want to ask you a few questions.”

Helge started to panic seeing the man he had nightmares every night since he was a child. He started to shake his head terrified.

“In 1986, a boy from Winden Vanished,” Ulrich stated ignoring Helge’s reactions, “Mads Nielsen. Do you remember? You were summoned to the station for questioning but there’s no transcript. What does ‘Why not forest road’ mean?”

The heart monitor screamed out of control for a nurse to check in on the older man. A nurse finally burst in to see Ulrich leaning over the man repeating the question over and over while Helge just tried to communicate. She walked over to the man and asked, “What are you doing here?”

“It’s him,” cried Helge.

Ulrich tried to explain, “I am a cop. I want to ask a few questions.”

Helge struggled out the words, “I know you!”

“What did you say,” Ulrich asked as the nurse tried to pull him away from Helge.

“I can change it,” Helge mumbled, “I can change the past and the future.”

The nurse called out to try and get someone else to help her remove Ulrich from Helge’s room so that Helge could continue living in peace. 

“What did you say,” Ulrich asked as the nurses soon surrounded him and started to carry him out, “Where’s Mikkel? Where’s my son?! Where’s Mikkel?”

Meanwhile, in 1986, Jonas walked out the back trying to find Ines so that she could help clear everything up. That is when he spotted them, the younger version of his grandmother and there next to her sat Mikkel. Behind him, the older Jonas, scarred and rugged by his many adventures through time, stated, “How little we understand of the world.”

Jonas turned to him and asked, “Is this real? Or am I crazy, just like my father? Do you even exist? Or are you the hallucination of a lunatic?”

“You are not crazy,” the wiser Jonas stated, “Neither was your father. Sometimes it’s hard for us to grasp things that go against all that we are conditioned to believe. How do you think people felt the first time they were told that the Earth was round?”

Jonas swallowed, “Yes it is. It’s totally insane.”

“And if it’s not?” the older him refuted back.

“How can that be,” Jonas asked with an insane smile on his face, “Is there a breach in time in the cave? So Mikkel hangs out here until he becomes my father?” He must have hit his head in the caves.

The older Jonas, annoyed, replied, “Even if you don’t want to believe it, that is your father.”

Distraught, Jonas looked back at the younger boy and said, “That means...That Ulrich is my grandfather and…”

“Martha is your aunt,” the man who went through this before replied.

Jonas growled, “That’s bullshit.” He was growing more and more annoyed. None of this was right. He just wanted to go home and have everything go back to normal. Martha and he doing this weird dance along the edges. “I’m taking him back and putting this right,” Jonas spitefully spat at his older self.

Knowing exactly what his younger self was thinking, Stranger Jonas pushed Jonas against the back of the car, “Don’t you get it?! If you take Mikkel back, you’ll be meddling in the course of events. Your father will never meet your mother, they won’t fall in love or get married. And you won’t be born! If you take him back now, you’ll be erasing your own existence. The role you play in all of this is much bigger than you think.” He pulled away thinking of a moment that will come to pass for his younger self not too far into his future. His heart ached as he explained tearfully, “But every decision for something is a decision against something else.” He panted as the memory unfolded for him. He could tell his younger self wouldn’t understand but was still terrified at the implications. He further explained, “A life for a life.” He started to calm himself as he asked, “What will you decide?” He wished that the outcome would change, but he knew it wouldn’t. If it had, then he wouldn’t be here as he was with a memory that would haunt him forever and a necklace in his pocket to keep her close to him.

Jonas tearfully watched as the older version of himself walked away. He then turned to watch Mikkel continue eating the green jello Ines had gotten for him. 

Charlotte sat on her desk in 2019 as she scolded Ulrich. Ulrich only used this to explain his, correct, theory that the dead boy, Mikkel, and the other disappearances had something to do with Helge. Charlotte tried to sympathize with him, but there was no feasible way this had anything to do with her father-in-law. 

Back in 1986, Helge opened up his glove compartment and grabbed the raider bar out so he could eat it.

Mikkel, himself, got hungry around the same time, so he hobbled his way down the hall to the vending machine. 

Jonas quickly followed in toe to watch Mikkel. He wasn’t completely convinced not to do anything. He was just about to approach when he saw the younger version of his mother walking up to the boy. Jonas quickly stood back just out of sight to watch. He could see them talking. He wondered if anyone had come back to do the same for him. He pulled out the letter and stared at it. Jonas then decided that he knew what he had to do.

Helge walked to the bunker. He looked around to make sure no one followed him before going inside.

Jonas crawled his way through the caves back home. He, then, made his way into his home. He snuck in quietly without anyone noticing. He wanted to first visit his mother. He walked over to her bedroom to notice something strange. There was a smaller body on the side closer towards the door. There, fast asleep, lay Annalise. He blinked for a second before shaking his head and going to his mother’s side.

Hannah, feeling a dip in the bed, quickly jolted awake. She groaned a bit expecting it to be the girl, but instead saw her son sitting there. He was dirty and sweaty, but he was finally home. “Boy, you startled me,” Hannah complained in a hushed tone to make sure she didn’t wake Annalise, “Where were you?”

Jonas just stared at his mother. He didn’t know what to say, or do for that matter. 

“What’s wrong,” Hannah asked, sitting up more in her bed.

Jonas stared at her and asked, “Do you believe in fate?”

Hannah looked down thinking about how to best answer this question. She had never lied to Jonas before, so she really wasn’t going to start now, “I… I don’t know. Maybe it’s my fate that men leave me.”

Jonas stared at his mother in sorrow. He hated seeing his mother like this. He silently wondered if something had happened while he was gone. “I think Dad loved you very much,” Jonas told her.

Both of them stared at each other, tears filled their eyes as they thought back to Michael. Jonas slowly pulled his mother into a hug and held her as she started to sob. This woke up Annalise.

The girl was so excited to see Jonas back home that she nearly pounced to give him a hug, but then she heard it. Their soft weeping. She slowly sat onto her heels and waited for them to be done. When they pulled away, Jonas looked towards the girl. She gave him a warm, tender smile before motioning up to say she was going to head upstairs.

Jonas nodded and mouthed that he would see her there in a moment. First, he had something he needed to do. The boy shut himself in his father’s studio with a bucket in front of him. He pulled out the letter and a lighter. Jonas deliberately set it aflame and dropped it into the metal bucket. He started to cry knowing that he was just destroying one of the last offerings of his father. He felt his presence in his life start to fade as the letter burned.

Ulrich walked into Helge’s room to find him missing. He looked around hoping to find a clue to where he had gone. There on the table rested that clue. ‘The Journey Through Time’ by H.G. Tannhaus with a necklace made of a coin from 1986 tied with a red sting. He knew he was on the right path. Hearing someone close a car door far too easily, Ulrich checked the window. That was when he noticed the sliding door was open. He walked out to see Helge pacing his way to the caves. Ulrich quickly called Charlotte and updated her letting her know that Helge was a time traveller. He watched as Helge went to the crossing and followed him.

While 1986 Helge climbed out of the bunker with the poor boy’s body. He dragged the body to the caves while Noah cleaned the floor. His back tattooed with Sic Mundus’s mark. 

After he burned the letter, Jonas changed into his sleeping outfit. He looked to his bed. When he saw that Annalise wasn’t there, he crept down the hall to find her in her bedroom. The boy gently knocked on the door to let her know that he was there.

Annalise sat up more in the small bed. She watched him. Jonas didn’t have to say anything. She knew what he wanted, what he needed. She moved closer to the wall so that he could crawl in with her. When he didn’t quite move, Annalise tilted her head but moved more to the other side so he could have the wall side.

Jonas slowly made his way into the bed after she crawled to the side he wanted her on. Tears ran down his face. He adored that he didn’t have to talk with her. Somehow she just knew. He rest his head on her pillow and turned to his side so that he could hold her close to him. He pulled her to him leaving little space between them. As he clung onto her, he grieved and bawled into her pillow. 

Annalise stiffened up as she felt him pull her so close to him. Not that she didn’t want to spoon with him, she just didn’t expect him to do so. She reached behind her and stroked his head. She lowly started to shush him, her voice staying hushed and compassionate to help calm him. Annalise didn’t know how long it was, but she kept caressing him and calming him until he had fallen asleep. His whimpering slowly turned to tempoed breathing. His hold never let up though. It was as if he was clinging onto the last possible string of hope he had in the world.

[frangipanidownunder]

Scar Tissue: Final

Read Part One  Part  Two

A/N: High angst. Trigger warning for PTSD/panic attacks.

Part Three

There’s a knock at her door. It’s not Mulder but Diana Fowley, suited, holding a paper bag. A peace offering for lunch? 

“May I come in, Agent Scully?”

Scully watches her as she glances around the apartment, checking out her living and mental state, much as Mulder had done. Fowley opens the bag. Sweet warmth spills out. 

“I’ll get some plates.” Scully reaches up to the cupboard and the skin around her middle tightens. A small moan escapes her lips.

“Let me,” Fowley says, taking the plates from the shelf. “I know how hard it is to recover, Agent Scully.”

“I’m fine. I’ll make you a coffee. The jug’s just boiled.” The raspberry filling on the pastries is dark red, congealing. She presses the back of her fingers to her lips. Swallows down the bitter bile. The coffee mixed with the aroma of Fowley’s Chanel No. 5 is making her nauseous.

“You haven’t been in the office for a few days. Fox…Agent Mulder was concerned.” 

Fowley’s voice is distorted. This whole scene is distorted. Her head is throbbing, her tongue is thick and stuck to the roof of her mouth. “I needed...”

“Take all the time you need,” Fowley says, sipping her coffee. Her eyes never leave Scully’s face. They’re taking everything in. Trained observance. 

Scully feels almost violated. “What does that mean?” She lays her hands on the table but she must have moved faster than she thought because the pastries wobble, one slips off the plate scattering flakes across the surface. All the while, Fowley is watching her. Making mental notes. 

Is this what Mulder felt like in the early days? Scrutinised? Trapped? A twinge of sympathy, guilt, but then she snaps back to reality. This is his doing. He’s chasing her away by using her own demons against her. Not the ones he’s had them chasing for years. No. He’s using a figure from his past, someone she knows nothing about, but who has knowledge of him, to squeeze her out of the equation. Partner? The man wouldn’t know trust and sharing if it dressed up as an alien and abducted him. She sees it all so clearly now that it makes her want to laugh. One of those maniacal, chest-opening laughs. But then Fowley would really deem her mad.

“Why are you here? Why didn’t Mulder come? Does he even know you’re here?” She can feel her voice squeezing through her throat and out into the air, pitchy.

Fowley reaches across, covers Scully’s hand in her own. Her fingers are thin, long, cold. She’s wearing a heavy gold band on the ring finger of her right hand. It’s ugly. Masculine. Scully tries to pull her own hand back but Fowley grips it. “Dana. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay. It just takes time.”

Scully wrenches her hand away, stands up, yells, “Get out of my house.” Her coffee and the plate fly through the air and fall onto the tiles with such a sharp crash that Scully gasps and clutches her ears. Her heart lurches, buffeting against her rib cage, painfully. The silence that follows is even louder than the breakage. She looks at the mess: pointed shards of white porcelain, greasy lumps of pastry, fruit smeared into the tiles, brown liquid blooming across the floor. Broken. Everything is broken. And she can’t move. She can’t feel her legs. She wants to scream but there’s no air left inside. 

“I’ll get a cloth,” Fowley says and starts clearing up, moving around with precision. Doing things. “Sit.” It’s a command and Scully obeys. It’s easier somehow, to just let someone else take control. She watches Fowley search for a dustpan, broom, cloths. She couldn’t even tell her where any of those things were, if she tried. 

She’s empty. 

When the mess has gone, Fowley sits back down. At some point she must have got a blanket because Scully has one wrapped around her shoulders and she’s shivering.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Is Mulder coming?”

Fowley half-smiles. “Do you want me to call him?” 

Scully shakes her head. He shouldn’t see her like this. She takes a juddering breath in. Clears her mind, resets. She thinks back to the events preceding, looks back at Diana and whispers, “Thank you.”

The woman shrugs, pulls her hair back and holds it at her nape. “When I was in Europe, we did some dangerous work. Undercover. There was one op that went horribly wrong. I was badly injured. I lost a partner. A good agent. I…felt like it was…my fault. I was the senior agent. I relived it every moment. The nights,” she says, letting her hair fall back around her shoulders and crossing her legs, “the small hours, I would lie there and pick over every detail. I had terrible nightmares, flashbacks, palpitations. It…it made me feel weak. Not just in a physical sense, but in an emotional way.”

Scully can’t look at her while she’s relaying this information. Diana’s words tear at her insides with their visceral honesty. Like Ritter’s bullet. 

“What did you do?” Scully asks.

“I did all the usual things, saw a counsellor, got drunk, took stupid risks, fucked around. I see how all those things numbed the pain for a while, but the pain always came back.” She dips her head, and Scully know she’s trying to get her to lift her own eyes. “It always comes back.”

“I’m not drinking too much. I’m exercising. I’m working.”

“And the nightmares, the flashbacks, the panic attacks? How are you dealing with those?”

Scully flinches. “Honestly, I’m…”

“Fine,” Diana says, but she doesn’t mean it as an extension to Scully’s sentence. It’s a statement. She’s giving up. She came here expecting Scully to be putty in her hands, to bend and mould into the shape that she and Mulder want her to be. Fowley’s face sets. She’s failed and she doesn’t like it. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Scully doesn’t see her out. She listens to Fowley’s footsteps clipping down the hallway. Confident strides. Leaving her. Fatigue fills her limbs like lead. Her temples tighten and tension pulls at her shoulders. She feels nauseous. Bile stings her throat. The apartment is suddenly cavernous, filled with ominous shadows, encroaching on her place in the kitchen. She stands but her legs are like jelly. She’s on the floor before she knows what’s happening. A leftover shard of china digging into her cheek. Tears mix with blood and run into the grout between the tiles. Leaking. Everything is leaching away from her.

It’s a long time before she rouses herself. Her joints are stiff, she’s cold, empty. She calls her mom. Listens to her gentle voice a while. Then she calls Mulder.

She’s still in her robe when he arrives, hair wet, skin stinging. Tears rush out, uncontrollable. He lets her weep. 

“The final stage of wound healing is maturation,” she says, after a while.

He nods.

“It can take two years. The dermal tissue is overhauled, remodelled. The tensile strength is enhanced. Non-functional fibroblasts are replaced with functional ones. It’s a long, complex process.”

“It’s going to okay, Scully. You’re going to be okay.”

“I made an appointment with a counsellor.”

“It’s not a sign of weakness.” She can see the relief in his eyes, but it’s more than that; there’s a deeper emotion at play. He reaches for her hand. God, she’s missed his touch. “It’s a sign of strength.”

“But even after healing, the wound site can remain 20 per cent weaker than the rest of the body.”

He shakes his head, chuffs. “Dana Scully operating at 20 per cent less capacity, is still 100 per cent better than most.”

His arms wrap around her, wet hair sticking to his face. “I’m sorry, Mulder, I’m so sorry.”

“No. No, Scully. I’m sorry. I let you down. I should have stepped in earlier.”

“I wouldn’t have listened. I didn’t listen.” He laughs, a genuine chuckle. She feels instantly lighter. Pulling away, she sees the question hanging. “It was Diana, actually. She made me see…”

“Funny...she told me you didn’t respond to her. She felt she’d wasted her time.”

“That’s not true.” She shakes her head.

Mulder tips her chin towards his face. “Perhaps you were just ready to face it, Scully.”

“It?”

He sighs, snapping from support to irritation. It hurts her, his instant change of attitude, but with her newfound clarity, she sees that her defensiveness has become a weapon, not a shield.

Her eyes fill again and she pats her fingers over her weary eyelids. “You’re right. I am. I am ready to face it, this. The rest of the process. Whatever it takes. And Diana, she really did make me think about moving forward.” 

“You’re the only one who could have made that decision, Scully.” His face softens again and there’s a warm energy running through her veins, positively charged. Something she hasn’t experienced in a while. 

“Thank you for coming, Mulder.” 

“Any time, partner.”

Her hands rest on her abdomen. The scar there is healing. She has to believe that. New cells regenerating, rebuilding, restoring. Her body is doing what it does best. And when Mulder leaves, she runs her hand over the striations and lets sleep take her down.